Crush II: Ostinato
by MissMelysse
Summary: Proper sequel to "Crush." Data/Zoe continues...is it only friendship, or is it building to something more? "If the cadence may be regarded as the cradle of tonality, the ostinato patterns can be considered the playground in which it grew strong and self-confident." —Edward E. Lewinsky Currently rated T, but it's a STRONG T, and I might bump it to M.
1. Anvil

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

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><p><strong>Anvil<strong>

**Stardate 44669.52 (2 September 2367, 09:00 hours local time)**

**Starbase Twelve**

Airports. Spaceports. Starbase transit lounges. It didn't matter what they were called, there were certain universal truths that applied to all of them, and when you were moving through one at the end of what was, for most of the worlds in the same sector as Earth, the last few days before the beginning of a new school year, there were a lot of families with kids returning from vacations, and a lot of students traveling on their own.

With my cello worn back-pack style (for easier transport) and my single rolling suitcase (anti-grav wasn't allowed in customs) I could have been any of the latter. Even my clothes: a t-shirt and jeans, vintage combat boots, and a sweatshirt tied around my waist, were almost a kind of uniform, the sorts of things worn by young humanoids for centuries. The colors might change, and the languages represented on the t-shirt slogans might be nearly innumerable, but the basic form was classic.

The difference was that instead of heading back to Earth or Centaurus, Vulcan or Corsica, or even Risa (home of the champion inter-collegiate beach volleyball team since 2359) _I_ was headed back to school on a starship, and not just _any_ starship, either: Starfleet's flagship, the _U.S.S. Enterprise_.

I was also traveling alone, as my mother and my once and future literature teacher were spending an extra week on Earth, after a week of something that was closer to a family vacation than anything I'd previously experienced. Not that I minded. My mother was greatly deserving of some personal time, and Ed, the teacher in question, was a great guy. I wasn't staking actual money on it, or anything, but I was betting there would be a proposal before the week was out.

"Next!" The voice of the transit officer in front of me roused me from my musing about Mom and Ed, and I stepped forward and presented my ID chit. "Name and destination?"

"Zoe Harris. I'm meeting the _Enterprise_," I said.

The blue-skinned, white-haired officer looked me over, his antennae bobbing slightly with the movements of his head. "You're a bit young to be Starfleet," he said.

I grinned. "A bit," I agreed. "My mother's in the science division there. Lt. Commander Emily Harris." She and my father had been divorced for almost a year, now, but she'd kept his last name. She was used to it, she'd explained. And changing records was a hassle.

"I have your records here," I was told. "Harris, Zoe. Bound for _Enterprise, _as you said. Here's your temporary comm-badge; it will give you access to station facilities and help them track you if you don't want to stay on the Starfleet deck. The ship's not due to arrive for several hours, but you're flagged as VIP status so I'm going to assign a room to you. Feel free to leave your belongings there while you roam around the station. There will be an announcement when _Enterprise_ docks, but a transit officer will find you, even so. You're sixteen, which means we don't need to assign a companion unless you ask for one."

"I'm good," I said, feeling like a seasoned traveler. In a sense, I was, having been on tour with my father for a good chunk of my childhood, but those had always been commercial transports, and some minion had handled all the paperwork. "But thank you."

There was a scuffle a couple of aisles over, where people were standing with picket signs – digital displays on meter-long handles – reading _Keep Earth Human _and _Humans First_. They were chanting, as well, and waving the signs at anyone who wasn't obviously human.

"Charming people," I snarked. "They know they're at arrivals, right?"

Eyes and antenna turned in the direction of the noise, and then refocused on me. "You'd think they'd have figured it out," he said. "They're here almost every week. Mostly they're just annoying, but we've gotten a couple of bomb threats." His hand rose to clamp over his mouth in embarrassment. "Oops, sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Listen, I'm sure you'll be fine." He scanned my retina and fingerprints and pressed a few keys on his console. "Welcome to Starbase Twelve, Ms. Harris. Enjoy your stay."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44669.78 (2 September 2367, 11:17 hours, local time) **

The best thing about Starbase Twelve, I decided, was that there was a branch of my favorite café there. I was sitting at a window table at Red Sands, watching the people on the Starbase promenade and nursing my second café mocha of the morning, when a familiar voice interrupted me.

"Ah, Zoe. I suspected I would find you here."

I looked up into the yellow eyes and pale gold face I'd missed seeing all summer. "Where there's coffee…" I began, teasingly, but I trailed off, when I noticed the smirk on this man's face. "Oh," I said, trying to sound unperturbed, "Lore."

The facial tic he still hadn't completely eradicated confirmed my assessment. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, dropping into the other chair at my table before I could even answer. "Actually, it doesn't matter if you mind or not. So, little girl, happy to see me?"

"Thrilled," I snarked at him. "Ecstatic, even." We both knew I was only being sarcastic to cover my fear. "Shouldn't you be stalking women your own age instead of teenagers?"

He managed a snort. "If you allow for all the years I spent packed away in pieces, I'm closer to your age than you might think," he said. "Certainly closer than my dear brother. He's, what, fifteen years your senior?"

"Thirteen," I corrected, though I was pretty sure he'd known the real number all along. "Not that it matters, since we don't have a relationship beyond friendship."

"But you want one."

"This again?" I asked. "Really? Brain like yours, and you have nothing better to do than worry about who may or may not be crushing on your brother? Don't you have puppies to kick or worlds to conquer or something?"

"Or something," he allowed, but his smirk had only gotten bigger. "Look, little girl, whatever you claim your relationship with my brother is, you _matter_ to him, and therefore you are extremely useful to me. Finish your drink, and let's take a little walk."

"You send me 'anonymous' notes, follow me around San Francisco, show up at my concerts, and now you want me to go on a walk with you? Are you sure your programming isn't glitching?"

"Oh, you are an amusing child," he said, the delighted smile he wore only making him seem creepier. He leaned across the table, so that anyone watching us would think we were having a romantic tete-a-tete instead of…whatever this was. "I need you to carry a message to my brother."

"Do I _look_ like a carrier pigeon?" I asked, using irritation to mask the terror running through me. Could he see me shaking?

"Carrier pigeon?" his eyes flickered back and forth in much the same fashion I was used to seeing in Data. I didn't point out that his brother's searches never took as long. "Oh, very good," he commented. "No, you look like someone who wouldn't want to be responsible for the destruction of a Starbase and the death of the good people who inhabit it."

"You're right," I agreed. "Because I'm _not._ I'm just a student heading back to school. And you know if Starfleet finds you here…"

"The _Enterprise_ is still hours away, and even if you signaled right now it would take transit officers seventeen minutes to get here…just long enough for you and I to have a little one-on-one time." He licked his lips suggestively. "You know you want to."

I stared directly into his yellow eyes. Nine months ago, I'd mistaken him – Lore – for his brother, my friend and tutor, Lt. Commander Data, and followed him into an unsavory section of a different Starbase. He'd ended our first encounter by kissing me and then knocking me out, leaving me with a new awareness of his brother in the process.

I still dreamed about that kiss from time to time.

Half the time, it was Data kissing me.

The other half the time, those dreams were nightmares.

"I know I _don't_," I said. "I also know that I wouldn't be responsible for whatever sick and twisted plan you've got up your stolen sleeve." I looked him up and down as I said it, taking in the fact that the uniform he was wearing was now out of date – the collar was all wrong, and the design of the sleeves had changed.

"Big talk from a little girl. Is false bravado your specialty?" He reached across the table and captured my hand, holding it with just enough pressure to restrain, while still making it very clear that if I made a wrong move he could easily crush every bone. His other hand reached for my chin, cupping it delicately, and when he spoke, his voice was a dark whisper in my ear. "Don't bother screaming, Zoe. If anyone sees us, they'll think we're engaged in something far more…intimate…then a mere conversation."

"I won't," I said. I actually had no intention of screaming, partly because I knew it wouldn't help, and partly because, stupid or not, I was curious about what he had planned.

"You have a room assigned. Let's take a little stroll to it."

"Okay." I knew it was a stupid move, but I also knew he wasn't going to rape me. It wasn't his style. He had something else in mind.

He kept hold of my hand as we stood up, though he let go long enough to wrap his arm firmly around my waist, instead, and we left the café, taking the lift to the hotel lobby, and then taking the hotel's lift to my room. When the door had closed behind us he pushed me onto the bed, and straddled me, bending his head close to mine.

His breath was hot and reeked of something like motor oil and battery acid, two things I was familiar with thanks to a life that involved boys with speedboats and souped-up fliers. "Seriously, have you been chugging flitter fuel?" I asked him, trying to roll out from under him, and failing.

"Silicone-based lubricant and generic nutritional supplement, if you must know. Plus fish oil. Helps the memory." He laughed, obviously meaning the last part as a joke. He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing mine as he spoke. "Want a taste?"

I shuddered. "Lips that drink Sili-Coat lube are _not_ touching mine. You want me to deliver a message, fine, I'll be your courier, but I don't see why you're fixated on me. I'm just a student who happens to know your brother."

"You know my brother…intimately…."

"Hardly," I snorted.

"'Hardly,'" he mimicked. "Is it? Are you sure?" He cocked his head slightly, then started speaking in my voice. "'Technically, Data, _our_ relationship is intimate. It's just not…it's just not sexual.' Need I go on?"

"How did you know about that conversation?"

"Ah-ah-ah. That's for me to know…and my brother to go crazy trying to figure out. Now do you want to deliver my message, or do you want me to start blowing up sectors of this 'base?"

"Do I _want_ to? No."

"But you will."

"Yeah," I said. "I'll do it. It's not like you're giving me much choice. What's the message?"

"You don't honestly think I'm going to just _tell _you?"

Actually, I had. "Well…"

But he moved, then, using his right hand to span my throat, holding me immobile, while his left reached for something he'd hidden somewhere in his ill-fitting uniform. It looked a little like a small phaser blaster. "Stay very still," he hissed at me, "and this won't hurt a bit." He forced my mouth open with the muzzle of the not-a-blaster, pressed it against my tongue, and pressed the trigger. Almost immediately, he released my neck and replaced his hand on my shoulder. I still couldn't move, but at least he wasn't almost choking me anymore.

White-hot pain flooded through my mouth, and then receded, leaving me dazed and confused. "Wha' wazzat? Wha' di'you do?" I asked, though I'm not sure the words were discernible with my dry mouth and thick tongue. Something hard and metallic moved in my mouth, and I tasted blood.

"Data-solid in a tongue stud," he said, smirking. "Tell your parents it was an impulsive decision, when they ask you. And make sure my brother helps you remove it. That part's crucial, actually. And when he does, you remind him of what I said before. I had the first taste." He kept me pinned and spoke the next words against my mouth. "And the second."

As he 'favored' me with an acidic kiss, I remembered the conversation I'd had with Data in sickbay, back in February. Summoning all my courage, I raised my arms to grip at him, bracing against him as I lifted my leg and thrust my foot at his crotch with all the strength I could muster.

Thank god for all the hills, and all the walking I'd done in San Francisco that summer. And thank god for the fact that fashion-colored combat boots were a trend I'd actually embraced that year.

I could have lived without ever hearing the android version of a scream, though. I don't know if Lore was merely in shock or if he actually felt pain, but he released me and ran out of the room before I had entirely realized he was gone.

I went to the door and opened it to scan the corridor, but it was empty, so I let it _swoosh_ shut, and locked myself in. Then I went to use the restroom, and to wash my face and hands. That accomplished, I checked out my reflection in the bathroom mirror, sticking out my tongue to see my new…accessory. The stud itself looked kind of cool, even if the reason for its existence was appalling.

I was shaking by then. I knew I should call security, but something told me it would be a bad move. Or maybe I just wasn't thinking straight. I picked up my padd to send a message to Data on the _Enterprise_, but just as I was doing so, the dual tones of an incoming message and something arriving in the replicator slot distracted me.

The message was from Lore. _"Little Pigeon, I'm sure I don't need to tell you that if you warn anyone the results will be very, very bad. I've had a drink and some after-care instructions delivered to your room. Drink the entire glass, and don't worry…I wouldn't go through the trouble of piercing your tongue just to poison you right after. Oh, and give Data my love. I'm doing all this for him, you know." _

I turned the device off and went to the replicator to retrieve the drink, which turned out to be a mild anesthetic. Drinking it made the throbbing pain go away, and calmed my nerves a little as well. I picked up my padd again, this time just sending a note to Data telling him where to find me, and then I stripped the bedspread off the bed, removed my boots, and curled up on top of the blanket.

The explosion came about ten minutes later, and lit up the area immediately beyond the window – the blinds hadn't been closed. From the bed, I could see bits of shuttlecraft and ships drifting outside the Starbase. A few minutes later, a second explosion rocked the entire base, lights flickered off and then back on, and emergency klaxons activated.

As I listened to the disembodied voice on the PA system telling Starbase personnel to report to duty stations, emergency services personnel to go to specific locations, Starfleet personnel to check in, and everyone else to stay either in their assigned hotel room or transit lounge, I sent a prayer to the universe that no one had been killed or seriously injured, that the _Enterprise _would arrive sooner rather than later, and that my mother wouldn't hear anything until I was safe.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44671.10 (2 September 2367, 22:56 hours, local time) **

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have, because when I woke up everything was quiet, and the in-room comm-system informed me that nearly twelve hours had gone by. Also? The _Enterprise_ was visible from the window, and I'd never before felt so reassured by the sight of a starship.

My tongue was throbbing again, and I definitely wasn't thinking clearly, because I sat on the bed staring at the great ship outside for several minutes before it occurred to me that I should contact someone.

I looked around for my padd, but before I could activate it, or use the comm-system on the desk, there was a signal at the door, followed by my temporary comm-badge crackling to life. _"Zoe Harris, this is Data. I am outside your assigned quarters. Are you alright?"_

I tapped the badge. "I'm here, and I'm fine," I said, slurring the words a little because my tongue was swollen. "Mostly." The computer didn't respond to my order to unlock the door. "But I can't get the door open," I said.

_"Starbase systems were damaged,"_ he informed me. _"I will open it manually. Stand away from the door, please."_

"Okay." I stepped back from the door, watching as the edge of it bowed, and then marveling as a white-gold hand punched through, and then gripped it, and forced it to slide open. "Data!" I couldn't have stopped myself from running to him if I'd tried. I crashed into him, wrapping him in a fierce hug.

His arms came around me in the way that had become almost familiar, which didn't surprise me. What _did_ startle me was that he let go of me with one arm after a few moments, and stroked my hair. It was the briefest of touches, but it was enough to make me draw back and look up into his eyes – eyes that were at once just like and _nothing like_ his brother's.

Tears threatened but I forced myself to smile, and ask him brightly, "So…did ya miss me?"

Then I fainted.

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><p><strong>Notes: <strong>First, thank you all for your continued support of my contributions to TNG fanfic. I'm having fun writing these Data/Zoe pieces, and I hope you're all having fun reading them. Second, if you're new to my version of the Trekiverse, please check my profile page, as there's a list of the recommended reading order. Third, thanks to acmac for suggesting "Crescendo" as a title for this piece. I didn't use it, but instead used it as a jumping-off point. Ostinato is a specific type of crescendo involving a repeating pattern (it can also mean 'stubborn' or 'persistent'), and seemed like a good choice.


	2. Awkward

**Disclaimer: _Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _U.S.S. Enterprise_, and all the canon characters belong to__ CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

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><p><strong>Awkward<strong>

**Stardate 44671.10 (2 September 2367, 22:56 hours, local time) **

_Tears threatened, but I forced myself to smile brightly and ask him, "So…did ya miss me?" _

_Then I fainted. _

I came back to awareness just long enough to realize that Data had gathered me into his arms, and requested immediate beam-out. It was my second trip through a transporter, and just like the first, I missed it.

I woke up a second time to dim light and the sensation that I was safe and comfortable. Disoriented, I felt a hypo being pressed against my arm, and Dr. Crusher's voice telling me to rest.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44671.54 (3 September 2367, 02:44 hours, ship's time) **

I woke up – again - some time later, to the sound of purring, and the feeling of my hair being pulled. I reached out, and made contact with fur. Cautiously, I opened my eyes, only to find an orange and white cat, previously known to me only in video recordings, sitting on the pillow – pillow? – next to my head, playing with my hair.

Abruptly, I realized I was no longer in the hotel room. Nor was I in my own room on the _Enterprise, _or in sickbay. I sat up in what was a surprisingly comfortable bed, and looked around. Realization came in a burst of embarrassment. I'd been in this room before, but only to walk through to the bathroom during a lesson that ran long, or that one time when Data was… I let my thoughts trail off.

I was in Data's bed. With Data's cat.

I assessed further.

I was fully dressed, except for my boots – which I hadn't been wearing when he broke through the hotel room door – in Data's bed.

This wasn't going to be awkward at_ all_.

A tug on my hair told me that Spot was still playing with it. "Heyyy, that's attached," I said softly, extricating her claws. She moved to sit next to me, and for a moment, watching her claws flexing, I thought she was going to take a swipe at me. Instead she butted my hand with her head in the universal signal for _pet me, now, feeble human. _

I complied.

I should have known that Data would hear movement, because his silhouette appeared in the partly-opened door. "Zoe," he said softly. "Are you awake?"

"Awake, embarrassed, in pain, hungry, and really confused. Also, I'm apparently a living source of macramé yarn for your cat."

"There was no indication that you were injured when Dr. Crusher scanned you," he said. "Are you able to join me in the main room? If so, I will ensure that the third and fourth conditions are alleviated, and endeavor to help you eradicate the fifth."

"You're not going to address the embarrassment part?" I asked, teasing gently.

"If you are embarrassed because you…collapsed…" he said, "then you should know that you were exhibiting symptoms of shock and low blood sugar. The doctor gave you a nutritional supplement and a mild sedative before leaving you here, in my care."

"That's…part of it…" I admitted. "Why am I not in sickbay?"

"The _Enterprise_ is helping to treat those who were injured in the explosions on the starbase," he explained. "Since you did not appear to be emergent, and since your mother is on leave, Counselor Troi and Dr. Crusher suggested that keeping you here would be preferable to leaving you alone."

"If I were more awake, or less in pain, I would point out the obvious flaw in that decision," I said, and honestly, snarking at him made me feel a little more normal. "If you have my padd somewhere, there should be a document detailing aftercare for a tongue piercing. That's what hurts. Also, if I'm 'in your care' for the night, I'd really like to change to something I haven't been wearing for a gazillion years."

He refrained from correcting my time estimate. "Your belongings are in the main room. I will read the document in question," he said, "and have a solution waiting for you when you have changed."

"Thanks," I said. "Um…should I go get my suitcase, or…?"

"I will bring it." He went to do that then returned, instructing the computer to raise the level of the lights in the room. "I will need the password for your padd," he said."

I gave it to him, and then bent to open my suitcase. Just as the door closed, I remembered where those aftercare instructions had come from. Well, I was going to have to tell him sooner or later. I used the bathroom, washed my hands and face, and changed into a tank top and sweat pants. Then I pulled out the gifts I'd brought for Data and Spot and went to the main part of the room.

True to his word, Data had read the notes on aftercare. A shot-glass of a thick liquid that I recognized as the same painkiller Lore had replicated was waiting next to a glass of ice water on his dining table, at the place I'd occupied whenever I was doing coursework in music theory, or shared a meal before or after a lesson. Data was sitting in the chair opposite, and he gestured for me to join him.

"Drink the painkiller first," he said, his voice soft and serious. "The ice water is to sip during our meal."

I took my seat, putting both packages on the table, and chugged the smaller of the two drinks, feeling the throbbing pain in my mouth recede almost instantly. "Better," I said. "Thank you."

A ding from the replicator signaled that our meal was ready, and Data went to retrieve two spinach and mushroom omelets. "The aftercare instructions recommended soft foods, at first. You will need to rinse your mouth out immediately following."

I nodded. "I'll do that," I said. "Thank you."

We didn't talk much during breakfast? Dinner? Whatever. Partly this was because I was so hungry, I couldn't have managed a conversation if I wanted to. Partly it was because we both knew what the only possible subject would be.

When my plate was cleaned, and I'd finished sipping the glass of ice water, I excused myself to brush my teeth, and rinse my mouth. I didn't have mouthwash with me, so I used his – it was another 'fleet issue product, but it worked – assuming he wouldn't object. I did have a moment of embarrassment at the implied intimacy of sharing hygiene products, but…on a scale of zero to a thousand, I figured generic mouthwash was about a level two.

I padded back out to the living area, and tucked myself into my corner of his couch. "You made tea?"

"Tea and confidences are our ritual," he reminded me gently. "And I did promise to share tea with you upon your return." He dislodged Spot from _his_ corner of the couch, and we waited for her to resettle before he handed my padd back to me, Lore's message displayed on the screen. "Zoe, when were you going to tell me you had encountered Lore?"

I closed my eyes against the prick of unwanted tears, but opened them before answering. "If I hadn't fainted, I'd have told you as soon as we were back here," I told him truthfully. "But I did, and then I woke up in your bed – how did three incredibly intelligent adults determine that a single man was the best guardian for a sixteen-year-old girl, by the way? – And you saw the note before I had a chance. I mean, what did you expect from me? 'Hi Data, love you, missed you, by the way, your brother left a message for you in my mouth.'"

I wasn't hysterical, but we both knew snark and ranting were my strongest defense mechanisms, and I was scared. Not for my physical safety, but that I might lose Data's friendship. I was also afraid he'd pick apart exactly what I'd just said.

He let my words wash over him, but stayed focused on the questions he needed me to answer. "I am sorry to cause you further distress," he said, "but you must tell me exactly what happened. I can call Counselor Troi to join us, if her presence would help."

"No," I said. I picked up the mug of tea and took a careful sip. The hot liquid felt weird in my mouth, but no weirder than food had, and the mint flavor was soothing. "Either I trust you or I don't. And I do." I kept the cup cradled in my hands, and gave him my best blow-by-blow of everything that happened from the moment Lore showed up at the café, to the moment Data had forced the hotel room door open.

When I'd finished, he began asking more specific questions.

"Why did you leave the café with him?"

"I felt like I didn't really have a choice," I said. "I mean, he'd pointed out that it would take time for help to arrive, by which time he'd be gone, and he was dressed like you. Well, he was wearing an old uniform. It was out of date, by the way. The only reason I knew it was him was because he wanted me to…if security had come, he'd have passed himself off as you, and it would have been my word against the second officer of Starfleet's flagship. Who would _you_ believe?"

"A valid point," he conceded. "Did he say anything that might provide a key to his motivation?"

"I don't know. He seemed to think our relationship – yours and mine – was more than it is. Oh! He quoted a conversation you and I had in this room. He quoted _me._"

"Which conversation?"

"When I said that our relationship was intimate, but not…"

"Intimate, but not sexual," he supplied. "An interesting choice, and, as we agreed then, not an inaccurate assessment."

"Data, that conversation was…here."

"I am aware of that," he said, not at all curtly. "It is disturbing, and I will investigate how it is possible as soon as we have finished our conversation."

I was quiet for a long moment. I felt like I was forgetting something, but couldn't figure out _what. _"Anyway, he put the piercing gun in my mouth, and," I gestured to my face, "and this happened, and he kissed me, and said to remind you that he'd had the first taste, and the second." I lowered my eyes. "I never told you that part about February. I was embarrassed, and Counselor Troi didn't think it was relevant except to goad you. But then, when he kissed me then, he told me to tell you he'd had the first taste." I met his eyes again. "When I have nightmares, that's what I hear him say."

"I…see," came his somewhat awkward response. I could tell he was processing everything I was telling him. I could practically hear gears spinning inside his head. Okay, not really, but… "Zoe," he said very gently. "Did Lore…force himself on you, sexually?"

Part of me wanted to laugh at his polite phrasing. It seemed so out of character. "You mean, did he rape me?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Did he…seduce you?"

"What? No! Data, I swear the only penetration of any kind was in my mouth." I could feel myself paling from the implication of that phrase. "With the piercing gun," I amended quickly.

"If he did…"

"If I'd thought rape was on his mind, I _would_ have called for help. You said last time, if he wanted to cause me physical harm, he could have. He _would_ have. He said I matter to you, and so I was useful to him. Anyway, rape isn't his style. Coercion? Possibly. Seduction, definitely. But not rape."

"You seem certain."

"I _am_ certain. Also, I made sure of it while he was kissing me." Data gave me a look that clearly meant I should elaborate. "I kicked him in the balls. Thanks for the information that it would work, by the way. Though, you might have warned me about how horrible his scream would sound."

"I did not know," he said. "Somewhat ironically, you are now in a position of knowing my brother more intimately than I do."

I shivered. "Did you have to phrase it that way? I know I once asked you about meeting him, but that was when he was an idea and not a rather brutal reality." We were both quiet for a while after that. Finally, I asked. "Data…what do we do now? I mean, you have to report this, don't you?"

"That is standard protocol," he said.

"Lore's message to you…the data-solid in my tongue….can you remove it?"

"I will have to examine it more closely first," he said.

"Yeah, that won't be awkward at all," I said, more to myself than to him. "When you _do_ report this, can you _not_ be specific about the nature of the conversation he quoted? Out of context it's…"

"I do not believe that level of detail will be necessary."

I opened my mouth to thank him, but yawned instead. "Sorry," I said sheepishly. "It's been…kind of a day."

"Go and rest," he suggested in a tone that made it clear I shouldn't argue. "I will begin my investigation, and contact the captain and Lt. Worf, as well as the doctor and the counselor. Someone will wake you when you are needed."

We stood up at the same time. He returned the tea things to the replicator in preparation for his investigation, and I moved toward the bedroom – his bedroom. A part of me flashed back to the beginning of the year, when he'd guarded my sleep during my mother's recuperation. A part of me indulged in a moment of fantasy about a future when sleeping in his bed would mean something very different.

"Data?"

"Is something wrong, Zoe?"

"No, never mind."

I wanted a hug, but didn't want to ask. Apparently, a rather intense year of friendship had been long enough for him to recognize when I needed reassurance. "I have observed that when you are anxious about something, you are usually soothed by a hug. Would you like one now?"

I turned around and let him enfold me in his arms. It wasn't a long embrace. But it was enough.

Spot, having decided that I either needed a friend or a guard, was already on the bed. I instructed the computer to dim the lights and curled up on the bed trying not to be hyper-aware of where I was, and why.

I wasn't a cat-fan by any means, but sometimes the soft purring of an animal is the best soporific around.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44672.03 (3 September 2367, 07:02 hours, ship's time) **

It was Data who woke me up again, a few hours later, though in all honesty, my sleep had been fitful. I kept not-quite dreaming, and not-quite waking up. Considering that I'd slept away a good chunk of the previous day on Starbase 12, and then been sedated for several hours after that, the fact that I'd slept at all was pretty miraculous.

"Zoe, I am sorry to disturb you, but the captain has asked the senior staff to be in Conference Room One at eight hundred hours, and your presence is required as well."

"What time is it now?" I asked, pushing my hair away from my face.

"Two minutes after seven. I was uncertain how much time you would need to 'get ready,' or whether you wished to shower."

"Here?" I asked, alarm and embarrassment warring for dominance. "I can't shower _here._"

"Zoe, I may be an android, but I can assure you there is nothing atypical about the shower in my quarters. You have used the bathroom more than once." Anyone else would have been a bit testy. His tone was oddly flat, even for him.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Honestly, not everything has to do with you being an android," I said. "In fact, most things don't." I took a deep breath; my litany of the levels of wrongness could wait. "How dressed-up do I need to be? I only have summer clothes in my suitcase, but I don't think there's time to run home and change."

"If you have any clothing that does not display writing, that would be best," he answered calmly. "No one will judge you on your attire…" He stopped in the middle of his thought. "Do not move." I stayed where I was, sitting on his bed, while he turned on his heel and left the room, returning with a tricorder. "Do you typically wear jewelry to bed?" he asked.

"Jewelry?" I tried to remember if I was wearing earrings, or not.

"Your bracelet," he said, aiming the tricorder at my wrist.

I looked down at the circle of turquoise, green, and white beads and then back up at him. "Mala beads aren't really jewelry," I said, evading his question. He opened his mouth to refute that. "You gave it to me," I said softly. "I don't ever take it off."

I don't know if it was the tricorder reading or my statement that made him match my tone, but what he said was, "I am gratified that it pleases you," followed swiftly by, "there is an extra bead."

"What?"

"When I gave you that bracelet for your birthday, there were twenty-seven beads. There are currently twenty-eight." He tapped a command into the tricorder, then scanned my wrist again. "I believe I know how Lore heard our conversations, as well as how he was able to track you to Earth and Starbase 12."

"A bug?" I asked. "He planted a bug in my bracelet. When?" I thought for a moment. "Oh. After he knocked me out. But…that means he was planning it? He was planning to find me back in February?"

"It would appear so," Data said gravely.

I did not burst into tears. Instead I said. "If you want me ready for an eight am meeting, you need to leave the room now."

"I will need to take your bracelet with me."

"Will I get it back?" I asked, automatically. "No, never mind. It doesn't matter. Not really." I held out my wrist and let him undo the fastener, leaving my wrist feeling oddly naked. As soon as he left the room, I dashed for the bathroom.

We made it to the conference room at exactly 7:59.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes: <strong>The bracelet was Data's gift to Zoe back in _Crush_, chapter 42. Lore knocked Zoe out in chapter 44, and her reactions to that incident began in chapter 45. Music will resume shortly. (For Data's POV of the last half of this chapter and the beginning of the next, see my one-shot _In Conference_.)


	3. Arrangements

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

><p><strong>Arrangements<strong>

**Stardate 44672.16 (3 September 2367, 09:31 hours, ship's time.) **

As it turned out, meetings of the entire senior staff - well, at least the key players among the staff – were less formal and slightly less intimidating than I'd imagined them to be.

Counselor Troi and Commander LaForge greeted me with hugs, while Commander Riker merely touched my shoulder as he skirted by me to take his seat. I couldn't figure out when Data had conferred with people, but it was obvious that the seat I was directed to, and the fact that Data and the Counselor were flanking me, while Geordi was directly across from me, was planned for my comfort.

They'd even arranged things so I could see out the large window that dominated the outer hull wall. It wasn't quite seeing where we were going – the ship hadn't actually left Starbase 12 yet – but it was nice to have a view. Seeing the stars was actually sort of relaxing.

Data told his version of the past day or so, from the moment he burst into my hotel room, and then I told mine. Questions - many of them following along the same lines as Data's - were asked, and I answered them as best as I could. Data explained about my bracelet, and shared that Lore had apparently made the switch all the way back in February. This elicited a non-verbal growl from Lieutenant Worf, but he seemed to be growling at the situation, and not at Data or me.

It was agreed that Data would try to locate Lore, and then they moved on to other business. I hadn't been asked to leave, so I listened as the talk turned to the status of those who were injured – and killed – in the explosions.

The counselor asked if the bomber had been captured, and the growly security chief shared that the Keep Earth Human League was "…taking credit for the incident." I wasn't adept at reading his tone, but my guess was that he was singularly unimpressed with the group's mission and motives.

But hearing him mention KEHL made me remember what it was I'd forgotten to tell Data, and had not included in my 'report' just a few minutes before. ""That's it!" I said as my memories clicked back into order.

Data and the captain spoke at the same time, the former asking me what was wrong, the latter, much more crisply, demanding, "Ms. Harris, have you something to add?"

I took a breath, and squeezed Data's hand – I'd told him in the turbolift that I would probably need hand-holding to get through the meeting - before I answered. "When I was telling Data what happened last night, and when I was telling everyone again this morning, I kept feeling like I was forgetting something."

The counselor seemed to sense that I hadn't gone over that part of my story, and that I was suddenly really nervous. Earlier, she'd wrapped a friendly arm around me. Now, she squeezed my shoulder in reassurance.

It helped.

"Continue," the captain urged, but his expression remained open.

"Data asked me last night –"

"This morning –" Leave it to Data to correct the timeline.

"This morning, whatever," I amended, slightly annoyed with him. I continued, addressing him, even though my words were really meant for everyone, "…when you asked why I went with Lore – I forgot. I forgot he'd told me in the café that he wanted me to carry a message. I asked him if I looked like a carrier pigeon."

"What did he say, Zoe?" the captain asked in the kind of gentle tone that parents use with very excitable children.

I was still gripping Data's hand. Actually, I was gripping his hand so tightly that my nails were digging into his skin, or they would've been if whatever he had instead of organic flesh was a little more…delicate. I felt his thumb press into the back of my hand – there's an acupressure point there, one we discussed once at the end of a Saturday Session when my hands were feeling stiff. Heat bloomed under his touch, and I could feel my tension easing away.

I turned toward the captain. "He said, 'you look like someone who wouldn't want to be responsible for the destruction of a Starbase and the death of the good people who inhabit it.'" I sipped some of the water from the glass that had been set before me. "Captain Picard – everyone – I'm obviously about as well-trained as a Rigellian ringed wombat –" Geordi's lips twitched in response to that. "- but I saw the KEHL people at customs. The agent who handled my paperwork said they'd been there for weeks, but they still hadn't figured out that they should hold their demonstrations at the departure lounge instead of arrivals."

I had watched Data process information more than once. Now I saw the captain performing a more organic version of the same practice. It lasted several seconds, and then he asked, speaking very slowly, "Mr. Data, is it possible that Lore was actually responsible for these bombings?"

Data said that it was, and then the captain started handing out assignments, including one for me, though that was just to let the doctor examine the tongue-stud.

As everyone began to leave, Data stood with me, almost hovering. I watched him interacting with his colleagues: he confirmed with the doctor that he had given me a painkiller; he told Lt. Worf that they'd be conferring in about an hour and a half; he received a friendly clap on the shoulder from Geordi, and then it was just the two of us again.

"You did very well this morning, Zoe," he told me.

"I didn't," I couldn't help but protest. "I was terrified and I felt so _stupid, _and I had to hold your hand like I was some idiot child."

"I beg to differ. You may have felt 'terrified' but you presented yourself with calm and poise. As to your need to hold my hand, is it not natural to seek support and reassurance in a new situation?"

"Yes," I agreed, somewhat reluctantly, and then I was moved to confess, "I didn't want to disappoint you."

He was quick to reassure me, his tone as serious as I'd ever heard it, "You have not. Indeed, you could not."

I wanted to find a way, other than words, to thank him for being so kind and supportive, and for not lecturing or judging when I'd told him my story the first time. I stood on my tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. It was probably just my imagination, but when my lips touched his skin, the metal stud in my tongue seemed to get slightly warmer.

"Can we stop for breakfast before I have to be poked and prodded by Dr. Crusher?" I asked him. Meetings always made me hungry. "And then can I please get my stuff from your quarters and go home? I mean, you're awesome, and everything, and I know you were just trying to take care of me, but…" I let the words trail off, leaving my sentence unfinished. We both knew what I meant, anyway.

When he answered me, it was with a question: "Is Ten-Forward an acceptable breakfast location?" Then he continued without missing a beat, "If so, I will inform both Lt. Worf and the doctor that we will both be delayed, and I will escort you to your quarters after you have eaten."

_It's a date_, I didn't say, but a part of me wanted to, so I just smiled at him instead. I let him lead the way out of the conference room and to the bank of turbolifts, though I asked him as we walked, "Data, you know how I said I wanted to see what you were like on duty?"

"Of course, Zoe. I have a perfect memory record of every letter and call we exchanged while you were away."

"Well, I should have been more specific. I really didn't want to observe you at work on a mission involving me."

He tilted his head at me, but all he said was, "Indeed."

**(=A=) **

**Stardate 44672.67 (3 September 2367, 12:38 hours, ship's time) **

"Okay, Zoe, open wide,"

Dr. Crusher had already scanned me from head to toe, but apparently that wasn't enough. The next trick in her repertoire was an old-school visual inspection of my mouth, of the kind that involved pen-lights and tongue depressors. Never had I been so glad to have brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth after breakfast. I mean, sure, warding off a potential infection in the hole in my tongue was great, but it was good to know the doctor wouldn't find anything gross during her…investigation.

"Is it still causing you pain?" she asked, while still holding my tongue with a pair of things that looked like really small tongs. Why did doctors and dentists always do that? Unable to answer, I gave her my best slitty-eyed glare. "Sorry," she laughed lightly. "I hate it when dentists do that, too." She released my tongue, and gave me a moist towelette to clean the lower half of my face.

"So, is there any chance I can lose the jewelry before my mom gets back?" I asked.

Her smiling face crinkled into a frown. "I'm not sure," she said. "It _looks_ very much like a standard barbell stud, but the balls on each end seem to be fused by some chemical compound. I'm running the analysis through the computer, but I'm honestly not even sure what to look for."

"Lore said it contained a data-solid. That would imply that there's a way to remove it without, you know, yanking my tongue out of my mouth."

"Nobody's doing any yanking," she agreed. "Do you remember anything else?"

I closed my eyes, trying to put myself back in the hotel room, on the bed. "He used a piercing gun that looked like a small phaser blaster. He forced my mouth open, pressed it against my tongue, and then there was a kind of muffled click, and then white-hot pain."

"Did you smell anything? Taste anything?"

"His breath was hot and smelled kind of oily and metallic. I don't know if that's normal…I mean…I kissed Data today and didn't smell that, but…" I trailed off in response to the look on her face. "What?"

"You kissed Data?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not some teenage nymphomaniac desperate to hit on my tutor," I said. "He took care of me last night and this morning. He let me hold his hand all through that meeting. I kissed him on the cheek. It was…chaste…and appropriate."

She shifted ever-so-slightly into mom-mode, and ruffled my hair. "Of course it was," she said. "I didn't mean to imply anything wrong."

"No, it's fine," I said, lowering my voice. "I guess it's time to own my crush, instead of denying it, just…don't tell _him_, please?"

"Not a word," she promised. "Although," she added speculatively, "as close as the two of you seem to be…as protective as he is of you…I wouldn't be surprised if something real did develop between you, over time."

"The friendship we already have _is_ real," I pointed out. "But even if I wasn't in his class, I'm too young, and he's a line officer, and I doubt he'd ever even be interested in me, so…" I sighed. "Anyway, I'm sixteen; I'm supposed to have crushes on wildly inappropriate people."

She smiled the mom-smile at me again. "You're handling everything with Lore so well, that I forget you're two years younger than Wesley sometimes."

"Oh! Wesley!" I shifted on the bio-bed, and nearly elbowed her in the nose. "He sent back a present for you, and I forgot to bring it when I came down here."

"Well, m'dear, You can bring it by later, or you can join Deanna and me for dinner in Ten-Forward and bring it there."

I was about to accept, when another thought crossed my mind. "I'd like that," I said, "but I haven't seen Dana and Annette since I left, and I'd really like to hook up with them. Unless…maybe you and Counselor Troi wouldn't mind if all of us joined you?"

She grinned. "I think it could be fun," she said. "Now, scoot. You're not sick, just slightly…"

"Perforated?" I suggested. "Apparently Lore never got the 'do not fold, spindle, or mutilate' message."

"Well, you have a good attitude, at least. Call me if the pain gets worse. Data's already sent the painkiller he had you drink to the replicator in your quarters. Have a dose before bedtime. In a day or so, you probably won't need it, but I'd feel better knowing you were getting good rest."

"Okay," I said. "And thanks." Impulsively, I hugged her, and after a beat, I felt her pat my back. Why did mothers – even other people's mothers - always do that? "See you at dinner."

**(=A=)**

Annette and Dana were waiting for me when I got to my quarters, and they immediately pulled me into a group hug.

"So," Annette asked, "how's our intrepid traveler?"

I grinned. "Come inside, and I'll tell all." Well, the edited version of all. I entered the passcode and they followed me inside, where my cello and suitcase were still sitting in the middle of the living room.

"Didn't you get back late last night?" Dana asked.

"Um…sort of. Let me go change to normal clothes and then we'll make snacks and you can get your presents."

"You brought us presents?" Annette asked, "Zoe, you didn't have to. Hey, what do you want to eat?"

"Something soft," I said. "Ice cream? Pie? A cheese omelet. I have a … thing… in my mouth." I dragged my suitcase into my room, and closed the door behind me, stripping off the sundress, and exchanging it for a pair of jeans and an ACT t-shirt. I collected the presents for my friends, and returned.

"A 'thing' in your mouth?" Dana demanded. I opened my mouth to show them. "Oh, god. Zoe. You pierced your tongue."

"Did I? I hadn't noticed."

"Zoe!"

"Sorry, Dana. It's just…there's a long story behind it, and it's complicated and I don't know if I'm allowed to share it with anyone, but I will say that I think this totally elevates my credibility as a rebel."

"Does your mother know?" my best friend asked.

"More to the point, does _Theo_ know?" Annette added.

"No one knows except you two and Dr. Crusher," I said. "And Theo and I decided it was better if we were just friends."

"But you two seemed like you were on your way to more…" Annette protested.

"He was so sweet," Dana added.

"We were, and we weren't," I explained. "But yes, he was sweet. Is sweet." I thrust their packages at them. "Here, open these."

They settled at the dining table to open their gifts, and I went to the replicator, and got tomato soup and grilled cheese for three. "Annette, your second package is from Wes," I told her, as I delivered our tray to the table, then went back for iced tea. "He made me promise not to let it stay with the stuff Mom and Ed are carting home for me."

"Oh, Zoe, you shouldn't have," Annette held up the scarf I'd picked for her.

"Well, you said you were hoping to be heading off to Edinburgh for college next year; I wanted you to be prepared for those soggy Scottish winters. Besides, I thought the gray and purple would suit you."

She wound it around her neck, "I love it," she said. "Now I want to see what Wes sent." And we watched while she opened that package as well. "Oh...this is lovely," it was a pin made from polished rocks. "You and he went shopping together, didn't you?"

"I might've given him some input," I allowed. "But it was his idea. Actually both pieces – and Dana's too – came from an arts and crafts fair in one of the parks. Theo and some of his friends instituted a tradition where we all went to brunch on Sundays after he and his aunt went to church, and Wes joined us some of the time." My tone softened. "I think he's a little lonely at the Academy. He has so much practical experience, but he's never had to really compete before."

"You sound like you learned something about competition yourself," Dana observed, as she tore open the paper wrapping on her package. "Oh, Zoe…these are awesome." She held up the collection of hair ties I'd picked for her.

"I figured, just because you have a thing for ponytails doesn't mean you can't have really snazzy ones."

She leaned over to give me a one-armed hug. "I love them; thank you."

"I brought Josh a t-shirt…I hope that's okay?"

"He'll love it," she assured me. "But what did you bring for _Data_."

"What makes you think I brought anything to him?" I asked, using my best nonchalant tone.

"Zoe!" Dana protested.

"We all know you're his favorite student, Zo'," Annette elaborated. "You and he are actual friends, not just teacher and student."

"Alright," I said, "I brought him something, but he hasn't opened it yet, I don't think, so I'm not telling."

"Spoilsport," Annette grumbled good-naturedly.

"How 'bout, instead, I tell you about the drama instructor I had. He's this big bear of a Scotsman, and for the first week or two, I was convinced he hated me. Every exercise he asked us to do made me uncomfortable and awkward, and I actually called my father crying at one point."

"You? Crying? About a teacher. I don't believe it," Dana said.

"_You've_ never met Lachlan Meade," I said. And then I told them everything that had happened at ACT, at Suzuki, and in between, including seeing T'vek again. By the time I was done, and they had shared the events of their 'summer' break, it was time to meet Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi for dinner.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong> For Data's side of the end of the previous chapter and the beginning of this one, see my one-shot _In Conference. _For purposes of this story, Data's quarters are on deck 8, and he's always had the two-room suite he should have had as 2nd officer.


	4. Bedtime Rituals

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

><p><strong>Bedtime Rituals<strong>

**Stardate 44673.47, 19:38 hours, ship's time **

**(3 September 2367, 7:38 PM)**

Dinner had been light and fun, which was exactly what I needed that night. The doctor and the counselor had insisted we use their first names at least for the duration of the meal, and while I usually had no problem with that practice – Data had always been just Data to me, Geordi was Geordi, and Professor Benoit had been Ed even before he'd started dating my mother – for some reason, with these two women, I felt as though I hadn't earned the right.

Annette had no such compunction, and, oddly, neither did Dana, so I forced myself to push through the awkwardness, and I ended up really enjoying the evening. We talked about Annette's college plans, and whether or not Dana and I had chosen schools yet. We talked about first loves and how relationships change over time.

At one point Dr. Crusher – _Beverly – _said that as much as she had loved her late husband Jack, a part of her wished she'd waited longer to get married.

"How old were you?" I asked.

"In my early twenties," she said.

"Gran – my father's mother, Irene Harris – has this theory that women shouldn't marry before they turn thirty. Well, human women, anyway."

Everyone was suddenly very attentive. "Your grandmother sounds like she has a lot of opinions about marriage," Counselor Troi – _Deanna_ – commented.

"Oh, she does," I said. "She has this letter she writes to all the girls in the family when they turn sixteen, with a sort of checklist."

"A checklist," Dana asked. "You never mentioned a checklist. Did you get a letter?"

"I did," I said. "Although, I had to ask for mine."

"How come?" Annette wanted to know.

"I guess she figured I'd been around to read enough of the letters my cousins had received, and I lived with her, when my dad stopped taking me on tour with him, to have sort of…osmosed…all her advice."

"So," Deanna asked, "what's the checklist, Zoe?"

I rolled my eyes, "You really want to know?"

"Yes!" chorused my two friends and our adult companions.

I began ticking items off on my fingers. "Never trust your partner to be responsible for birth control. Always know how to please yourself so you can tell your partner. You don't have to marry the first person you sleep with, or, for that matter, at all. You shouldn't get married before you turn thirty. Whatever age you get married, even if it's just a limited contract marriage, make sure you've finished your education, lived independently for at least a year, traveled, and had at least one truly tragic love affair."

"That's actually very good advice," the counselor said. "Anything else?"

I thought about it. "Not about that, but…she's an activist from a long line of activists, so she's always pushed being well-read, well-informed, and having opinions. When my cousin Vanessa turned eighteen, Gran took her on a special weekend trip that included making sure she registered to vote. And of course, she taught all of us that music is one of the most vital forms of communication."

"Sounds like a very wise woman," the doctor observed.

"She taught at Starfleet Academy for a while," I said. "As a civilian guest lecturer, I think. I know that's how Mom and Dad met…and I think Commander Riker mentioned taking her class."

"I'd forgotten he and your mother were in the same year," said Deanna. Then she glanced at Dana and Annette, "What advice did your mothers or grandmothers pass down to you?" she asked.

Annette spoke first. "Always bring something when you're invited to someone's house, even if it's just a plant. Always leave a place better than you found it, clean up after yourself, and offer to help with the dishes."

"Also good advice," Deanna pronounced. "Dana?"

"It's going to sound really silly," she warned. "But the thing I remember her saying most – other than that it never costs a thing to be polite – is 'always wear clean underwear.'"

For a moment we were all silent, and then, as one, we burst out laughing. In fact, our laughter was so loud, it drew Guinan over to our table. She stood between Dana's chair and mine, laying a hand across the back of each. "You are all having too much fun over here," she said by way of a greeting. "I came to see if I could join in."

"We're sharing sage advice," the doctor said. "Got any for us?" Amusement made her voice sound musical.

"Yes," she said, "and I see you've already taken it: share a meal with friends whenever possible, support other women, and never be afraid to laugh." She glanced at the remains of the meal we'd shared – an array of pasta dishes in deference to my still-slightly-sore tongue. "I can see you've finished your meal. Do you want dessert?"

"Only if it's chocolate," Deanna and I said together.

"And kind of mushy," Dana added, making a face at me. "Zoe's got a tongue piercing."

"Dana!"

"What? It's not like you can hide it. It sort of…sparkles…every time you open your mouth."

"Let me see?" Guinan asked, so I turned my head and opened my mouth to show her. "Hmm. Not what I would have picked for you, but not bad. Removing it will be interesting."

I stared into her fathomless black eyes for a long moment, wondering exactly what she knew.

"I may decide to keep it," I hedged.

"No, I don't think so," was her response. "I'll send someone to clear your dishes and bring out some chocolate mousse." Her hand grazed my shoulder as she left, and I'm sure it was on purpose. Oddly, that brief contact left me feeling a little more settled.

After dessert, I handed out the presents. The counselor, was delighted by the box of chocolate cable cars. "Kitschy, I know," I said, "but how could I resist?"

"I'm glad you didn't."

The doctor's gift was actually from Wes, a hand painted silk scarf, but, just as Annette had, she said, "You helped pick this out."

"I might have nudged Wes in the right direction," I said.

"I'm glad you two spent time together."

"Actually," I deadpanned, "He, Theo, and I have formed a support group for teens and young adults with Starfleet parents. I'm the president."

The doctor laughed and the counselor asked if she could be an honorary member, which Dana, Annette, and I pretended to consider until our chocolate mousse arrived. As we dug into the creamy goodness, Annette observed, "Commander Data has been watching our table awfully carefully."

"Considering that the bulk of his math class is at this table, he's probably just considering how much mathier our tutorial can be," I joked.

"'Mathier?' Zoe, really?"

I shrugged. "That or he's enjoying a chance to observe multiple generations of humanoid females at once." I used the nature-film narration voice I'd once used with Data himself. "Observation has shown that humanoid females have a marked fondness for chocolate-based confections, especially when a group of them congregates…"

"Zoe!" the doctor exclaimed. "That's unfair." She took a beat. "Accurate, but unfair." She was laughing when she said it.

"Why do I get the feeling that sending you off to a summer drama program created a monster?" Dana joked.

"Why would you think I wasn't a monster before?" I shot back, offering her my sweetest smile.

**(=A=)**

By ten p.m. – or rather, twenty-two hundred hours – our dinner party had broken up. Dana was meeting Josh for a bit before her curfew, Annette had a scheduled vid-call with Wesley, some ensign named Ezekiel had broken his ankle 'again,' which required Dr. Crusher's attention, and the counselor… "Zoe, it's getting late. Mind if I walk you back to quarters?"

I suspected that it wouldn't have mattered if I did mind. "Sure," I said. "Why not."

We left the table, but she didn't start talking to me again until we were in the turbolift heading down to the officers' decks.

"You had quite an adventure yesterday," she said. "How are you holding up?"

I shrugged. "You tell me," I said. And then, because I knew how that must have sounded, I added quickly, "I'm not being flippant this time. I woke up in the middle of the night in…a strange bed…and since then, except for napping again for a few hours, I've been going nonstop. I should be exhausted, but I haven't had a moment to really _feel_ anything, and my tongue hurts, a little, which means it's time for more painkiller, but…otherwise?"

She touched my hand. "Slow down," she said. "Breathe."

"Sorry. I was getting a little rant-y, wasn't I?"

"A little," she agreed, but there was a smile in her voice.

I took a deep breath, as the turbolift doors opened onto an empty corridor. "Honestly," I said, "I know at some point everything's going to hit me and I'll be a basket case, but right now, I'm just pissed off. I feel stupid and…and _used_…and I feel like I want to punch him in the nose."

We both knew the 'him' in question was Lore.

"You'd break your hand," she pointed out helpfully.

"Probably," I agreed. "But it would be so…satisfying…at least until the pain set in. Anyway, my mother's going to kill me when she finds out I have a tongue piercing, and then she'll kill me again when she finds out why, so it doesn't really matter."

"You haven't told her?"

I sighed. "I sent her a message that I was safely on the ship, and unharmed by the explosions, but the rest…she shouldn't have to hear that via subspace. All it would do is wreck her vacation, and honestly, the grounding she'll give me - for my own protection, no doubt – will probably last longer than six lifetimes, so I'm going to enjoy what little relative freedom I have left."

We were at my door by then, and I invited her in, but she declined. "I think a little alone-time is the best thing for you right now. Change to pajamas, take your painkiller, read a good book or something. You can call me or Data at any time if you need anything, even if it's just a bad dream."

"Speaking of Data…" I began. Then I stopped. "Actually, never mind. It's not that important."

She stared at me as if she didn't quite believe me, but she didn't push. "Alright. I would like you to check in with me sometime tomorrow, though."

"I will," I said. "I promise. Thank you."

"Goodnight, Zoe." She turned and left, her dark curls bouncing as she walked. Sometimes, I envied the bounciness of her hair. Mostly, I wondered how many hours it took to detangle it every day.

I went to the bathroom to wash my face, and rinse my mouth out, taking time to really look at the stud in my tongue. It clicked against my teeth sometimes, but the pain was no longer as bad as it had been even a few hours before. I changed into the same tank top and sweats I'd worn in Data's quarters. There was stray cat hair on the top, and I picked it off, then curled up on my bed to read.

Only then did I realize I'd left my padd with Data.

A part of me wanted to call him and ask if I could come get it, and watch him open his present. A part of me knew that I really shouldn't bother him unnecessarily.

I padded out to the main room, and replicated the shot-glass of painkiller I'd promised to take, and asked the computer for the time. It wasn't even twenty-three hundred hours, and I was half convinced the day would never actually end. I went back to my room, stripped the quilt from my bed, and wrapped it around myself, not as much for warmth as for comfort. I accessed the entertainment system, flipping through menus until I found a romantic comedy that was well-written enough to not be annoying, and curled up on the couch to watch it.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44674.05, 00:42 hours, ship's time**

**(4 September 2367, 12:42 AM) **

I don't remember falling asleep, but I know I woke up to the end-credits of the video and a purring cat batting at my hair. "Spot?" I asked, confused. "How did you get in here?"

The cat did not deign to answer.

I asked the computer for the time, and learned that a mere two or so hours had gone by, but that while I'd dozed through my video, the 'calendar page' had flipped. September 3rd was finally over, after all. I asked the computer for Data's location, learned he was on the bridge, and sent a text message offering to trade his cat for my padd, once his duty-shift was over.

I wasn't really in the mood to sleep – I knew there would be nightmares – but I also knew that falling asleep in front of another vid wasn't really the best plan either. Since Spot seemed disinclined to get off my quilt, I scooped her up with it, set the lock code on the door, and went to rinse my mouth out one more time before bed.

It had only been two nights, but this extra oral hygiene was already becoming a new bedtime ritual. I realized that whether I still had a piercing or not, my next dental checkup would likely be fantastic.

As I slid into my bed, I instituted another bedtime ritual: I grabbed the hated comm-badge I'd been blissfully separated from all summer, and slid it under my pillow, keeping my hand loosely around it. Between that and Spot's soft, sleepy, breathing, I soon fell asleep.

**(=A=)**

_Meeeeeoooowwwwrrrrrrrrr!_ Spot's screech, and the following thud as she leaped from my bed and landed on the floor woke me from a dream that had been surprisingly not-horrible.

My own scream rivaled hers in both pitch and volume, because when I sat up in bed Lore was standing in front of my door.

"Well, Zoe," he mocked. "Didn't figure you for a screamer. All of our other encounters have been so…quietly intense." He pulled a face. "Did I wake you?" His chuckle was low, menacing, and totally stage-y. "Oh, wait, do I care? I don't think I do."

I threw one of my pillows at him. Not the smartest thing to do, I know, but at least it wasn't passive. Also, when it went _through_ him I realized he was a hologram. My other hand was still under the other pillow, still holding the comm-badge. I pressed it with my thumb, but nothing happened.

"Nothing to say to me," holo-Lore asked. "I'm disappointed, little girl."

Anger was starting to replace fear in my sleep-addled brain. "Forgive me for not feeling sorry for you. Is there a point to this late-night social call? Are you really that desperate for attention?"

"Attention? Why, yes…this is about attention. You and my brother haven't been paying any. I gave you a message for him, and it hasn't been delivered yet. Tick-tock, little pigeon. Mad dog's getting closer."

The hologram winked out of existence, and the comm-badge suddenly connected, "Zoe Harris to Lt. Commander Data," I said as loudly and as quickly as I could, while I slid the thing out from under the pillow.

_"This is Data. Zoe, what is wrong?" _

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know you're on duty, but I just woke up to a holographic visit from Lore."

_"I am on my way. Stay where you are, and do not allow anyone in until I arrive." _

"Wasn't planning on it," I said. "I mean, okay."

_"Data out." _

I've never been sure if he ran all the way from the bridge to my mom's quarters, or if he managed to make the turbolifts move at breakneck speed, or if he used the transporter, but Data was at my door almost before I'd pulled my sweatpants back on under the tank top I'd worn to bed, and dragged my quilt (sans Spot, who was weaving between my ankles) back to the main room.

The annunciator chirped. "Zoe, it is Data. May I enter?"

I released the lock code on the door. "Come in," I called.

He came right to where I was sitting. "Are you unharmed?" he asked, before anything else.

"Physically, I'm fine. Emotionally, the jury's still out. Spot woke up before I did, by the way. Too bad you can't interrogate her."

"I am still uncertain as to how she gained entry to your quarters in the first place. Where did Lore's hologram appear?"

"In my room," I said. "Between the bed and the door."

"What did it say?"

For a moment I was confused by Data's use of the pronoun 'it' in reference to his brother, but then I realized he meant the hologram. I relayed the conversation as well as I could.

"Do you know when the transmission began?" he asked.

"Um, maybe seven minutes before I made contact with you. I tried a few times during, but it wouldn't go through."

"I am not surprised."

The door chime sounded again, and Data left my side to greet the security detail, led by Lt. Worf. I heard him consult with the latter in voices too low for me to really discern what they were saying, and then Worf and the pair of security ensigns whipped out their tricorders, and started scanning everything in my quarters, including my room.

Several minutes later, the three of them returned to the center of the main room. "Sir," Lt. Worf began, addressing Data, "we have scanned the entire cabin. There is no evidence of an intruder, but we did find evidence of an EM spike large enough to account for a holographic signal."

"I expected little else," Data said. "Please send copies of your official report to myself as well as Captain Picard."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you Lieutenant. You are dismissed."

I waited for several seconds after the trio of security officers had gone before I asked. "Data, is it usual for the head of security to lead details in the middle of the night?"

"As chief of security, protocol dictates that Lt. Worf be notified any time there is an incident requiring a security detail," he informed me matter-of-factly.

I just gave him a _look_.

"It is not entirely _un_usual," he allowed. "As well, it is no longer the 'middle' of the night, but shortly before zero five hundred hours. Lt. Worf was likely awake and well into his 'morning routine' already."

"Oh, okay." I waited a beat. "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"We _have _to tell my mother what's going on now, don't we?"

"It will not affect the speed of her return home," he said, "but I believe that informing her of recent events would be 'the right thing to do,' if for no other reason than to prepare her for what she may find."

"You say that like you expect to walk in here some morning and find me all…" I couldn't utter the word 'dead.' "…corpsified."

"That will _not_ happen," he said with more intensity than I thought possible. "I will not allow it," he added.

I reached for his hand, finding comfort in the feeling of his palm pressed against mine. "Okay," I said." Again I let silence stretch between us, though I was pretty sure I could actually _hear_ him thinking. "What happens now?" I asked, my voice coming out smaller than I'd expected.

"Right now, I would like you to gather a change of clothing, and whatever you need to prepare for your day."

"I'm moving?" I asked.

"Your skin is pale, there is shading beneath your eyes that I believe is referred to as 'dark circles,' and your respiration is uneven," he observed. "You may have been asleep when Lore's latest 'message' arrived, but you clearly require rest. Unfortunately, I cannot stay here to guard your sleep, as I must have access to the workstation in my quarters."

"Gee, Data, if you want to take me home with you, there are better ways to say it," I joked, forgetting for a moment just who my audience was.

He turned his yellow-eyes on me and deadpanned, "I believe in that case the correct question would then be, "Do you wish to 'see my etchings?'"

My laughter was brief and slightly hollow, and I sobered instantly. "You really believe I need to be guarded?"

"I know that you are prone to nightmares, and that a caring presence has been enough to keep them at bay in the past."

"Fifteen minutes," I said. I released his hand, rose from the couch, and went to gather the things I'd need for the morning.

**(=A=)**

How we'd managed to avoid running into people in the corridors, I will never know, but within half an hour I was tucked into Data's bed, though my quilt was on top of his 'fleet-issue bedspread, and he'd already left a message for Mom and Ed, at the b&b where they were staying, and called Counselor Troi to inform her of my whereabouts.

She'd instructed him to let me sleep myself out.

"I will be in the main room," Data informed me once I was as settled as I was going to get. "Do you require anything before I resume my work?"

"A glass of water, and my padd?" I asked.

He left the bedroom, only to return a few minutes later with both of my requests. I sipped some of the water, then put my glass on the bedside table, an extension of the built-in headboard, really. He held onto my padd, saying, "I realize that you may not want to sleep immediately, but I would caution you against using this device. The use of electronics directly before bed has been shown to have minor adverse effects."

I actually knew that, but, "I just want to read a while," I said. "It's distracting. It'll help me get Lore out of my head, and stave off the nightmares." It should have been weird, having a conversation with him while I was in his bed, but somehow it wasn't. Somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the universe. "Reading or music are the only things that ever help."

"Music?" he asked, his face brightening into what I now knew was his 'idea face.' "Would you like me to play for you for a few minutes?"

Actually, as long I was there… "You sing, don't you? I mean, I've heard you singing phrases of our music to me, but you know actual songs, right?"

"Yes," he said. "Do you have a preference?"

"Anything quiet, and anything that's _not_ Gilbert and Sullivan," I requested.

"May I sit?" he gestured to the end of the bed.

"It's your bed," I pointed out. "I'm just borrowing it for the night."

He sat, rather gingerly, actually, on the edge of the bed, dimmed the lights in the bedroom and the main room, and began to sing. I didn't know if he could see my expression in the low light, but his choice couldn't have been more perfect. Smiling, I slid down into the sheets, and listened to his warm tenor rendition of Debussy's _Clair de Lune. _

My eyes were closed, but I wasn't quite asleep when the song ended, and he moved back toward the main room, and his workstation. I heard the door start to close.

"Can you leave it open?" I asked softly. "At least part-way? I kind of…it's reassuring to know you're _there_."

"If I keep the illumination at this level, will you be able to sleep?" His voice was also pitched lower than usual, or maybe it was the darkness that made it seem so.

"It won't keep you from working?"

"It will not."

"I'm good if you are."

"Good night, Zoe," came his answer, from farther away that time.

"G'night Data, and thank you for the song."

It turned out that the soft glow of the monitors on his console, combined with softly murmured commands and equally quiet keystrokes, was almost as calming and comforting as his singing.

* * *

><p>Notes: "Clair de Lune" by Debussy is one of the pieces Zoe played solo in "Crush," and suggested to Data that they rehearse as a duet. While it's most often heard as an instrumental, it's also a very popular French lullaby. Men rarely sing it, so I've added Natalie Dessay's version to the "Crushing on Cello" YouTube playlist linked in my profile.<p> 


	5. Bittersweet

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

><p><strong>Bittersweet<strong>

_I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down  
>You know the one that takes you to the places<br>Where all the veins meet, yeah_

**Stardate 44675.29 **

**(4 September 2367, 11:32 hours, ship's time) **

I ended up sleeping until nearly noon.

Well, there were a few moments when I had been awake enough to realize that the bathroom door was closed, and the sink and sonic shower were being used (not at once, obviously). _Don't think about the naked android behind the door_, I instructed myself, rolling over in the bed and going back to sleep.

At least my dreams were happy ones.

When I finally did emerge from the cocoon of sheets and quilts and pillows, I made a brief stop in the bathroom, and then padded, barefoot, out to the main room.

Data was seated at his workstation, apparently completely focused on whatever he was doing. I watched him for several minutes, saw him pick up my bracelet, scan it with a medical tricorder, and then a scientific one, heard him make the non-verbal noise he always did when a result was unexpected, and then tap commands into the console.

It was at least five minutes before he looked up at me. "Good morning, Zoe. Did you sleep well?"

It was such an utterly ordinary thing to say that for a moment I had no idea how to respond. Finally, I said, "Um, yeah. Actually, I think it's the best rest I've had since…maybe all year?"

His eyes widened. "I can only assume that you are exaggerating."

I shook my head. "Actually, not. I was having nightmares about Lore up through the opening of _Anne_, and then I was wired from performing, and then I was away and keeping a lot of…well, let's just say most of us looked at the curfew as a suggestion rather than an actual rule."

"I am glad you were able to get some 'real rest' then," he said. "If you are hungry, you may use the replicator."

"Would you mind if I showered and changed first?" I asked. "I promise not to freak out about using your shower again."

"If we are going to coexist together until your mother and Professor Benoit have returned to the ship," Data said. "You should know that you are not required to ask permission to use any of the…facilities. However, if you wish to ensure that your privacy is not actually breeched, I would appreciate it if you informed me."

"I'm sorry, did you just say that I'm staying with you for the rest of the week?"

"Yes."

"No."

"I do not understand your objection," he said.

I stared at him for a long moment, and realized he really _didn't_ get it. "It's…complicated," I said. "Maybe I should ask Counselor Troi to help me explain."

"We have never needed the intercession of the counselor to work through interpersonal problems before," he pointed out.

"No, the last time we had anything close to a problem it was never resolved at all, because it was also the _first_ time I got tangled up in your brother's games." I said, and then I walked up to his desk, and extended my hand. "Hi, I'm Zoe Harris. I'll be your pawn today." I'm not really sure why I said it, but I regretted it immediately. Maybe my mouth really _would_ be the death of me someday. "Oh, god," I said. "I'm sorry."

Anyone else would have been seething with anger, or even exploding with it. Data just looked up at me with a completely blank face. "Perhaps you should shower and change now," the words were uttered in a perfectly neutral tone. "Counselor Troi wishes to see you as soon as you are ready."

I returned to his bedroom and locked the door after it swished closed. I took what must have been the fastest sonic shower in recorded history, threw on jeans and a t-shirt bearing a stylized cello and the Suzuki Institute's logo, and breezed past Data's console and out the door.

If he spoke to me, as I fled, I didn't notice.

**(=A=)**

Fifteen minutes later, I was in Counselor Troi's office, telling her what happened. "…and then I kind of snapped at him," I said, relaying our brief conversation. "I'm a horrible person."

"No, you're not," she said. "But you have been through an unusually stressful few days."

"Stress? What stress? Doesn't every kid want to spend the wee hours of the morning with half the senior officers of Starfleet's flagship traipsing through her bedroom?"

"Interesting that you describe yourself as a kid."

"Aren't I?"

"You're sixteen. You may not be quite an adult, at least legally, but you're certainly not a child, either. I'd say you're a very scared, very brave young woman, who is dealing with an extremely unusual situation."

"Don't forget funny. I'm all about the funny."

She smiled at me. "Alright. Brave, funny, and scared."

"And stylish," I added. "I mean, really, I own only the best in trendy victim-wear." I gestured to my oh-so-fetching attire.

"Zoe…"

"Sorry," I said. "I'm hungry, I'm punchy, and, yeah…like you said, scared." I hesitated. "Isn't it an oxymoron, being scared _and _brave?"

"Not really. You know the line…'courage isn't the absence of fear…'"

"It's pushing through in spite of it," I paraphrased. "I don't feel like I'm pushing through anything, though. I feel like all I'm doing is giving a lot of people extra work."

"I can see how it might seem that way, but none of this is your fault."

"Isn't it?"

"No. It isn't. But I'm not surprised you blame yourself, at least as much as you blame Data."

"I don't blame Data," I said quickly. "Well, not much."

"Don't you?" she asked pointedly. "Isn't he the person who told you not to be worried about Lore? Isn't he the person who said Lore was unlikely to harm you?"

"Well, yes," I said. "But I'm pretty sure he believed it when he said it."

"But you're still angry with him for being wrong."

"Everyone makes mistakes," I said.

"_Everyone_?" she asked.

"Oh."

Her carefully neutral expression warmed into a smile. "Do you think you can talk to Data about what you're feeling? It's a pretty safe bet that he honestly _doesn't_ understand."

"Knowing Data," I said, "it's also a pretty safe bet that he blames himself more than I do."

"I'm certain he does," she confirmed. "The two of you are going to need to work pretty closely to figure out what Lore wants and how to remove your little metal friend."

I grinned at her phrasing, but sobered quickly. "What do you mean the _two_ of us? I'm pretty sure I really _am_ just a pawn in this game. And a carrier pigeon."

"You're also the only one who interacted directly with Lore. That's one of the reasons I want you staying with Data. We all need to know you're somewhere safe until your parents return."

"Parent," I corrected, mostly because I was trying to deflect the next topic. "Singular. The other one's off waiting for his replacement wife to pop out their replacement kid." I could tell she was making a mental note for us to talk about _that_ at some point.

"Alright, until your mother returns, I think it would be best that you stay with Data."

"Counselor Troi," I began in my best pleading voice, "_Deanna_, please don't make me do that. It's all…weird and awkward. _He_ never treats me like a child. Ever. And I'm afraid I'll forget, and cross a line, and he'll know…"

"Know what? That you care for him?" She changed the pitch of her voice, making her next sentence sound more serious. "_You_ know Data would do anything to keep you from further harm, Zoe. Have you considered that he might need you right now, as much as you need him?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"Are you certain of that? Think, Zoe: how many letters and calls did you two exchange while you were away? Who punched their way into your hotel room? Whose brother is doing all of this?" She hesitated, "He was subdued the entire time you were away, except when he'd just heard from you. I believe he _needs_ to protect you, even if he won't admit it. If you're concerned about your reputation…"

I cut her off, "Mine? Oh, that's absurd. People think I'm sleeping with an officer, my cred goes up. Besides, I couldn't care less about my reputation. I care about his."

"Oh?"

"People talk," I said. "And I've seen the news files and read the stories. I know he had to go through a hearing to prove he was a person. And I know some stupid old admiral tried to take his daughter from him. If the wrong people think there's anything more than casual friendship, they could take him apart. And Counselor…Deanna…our friendship hasn't been casual for…ever."

"I know," she said. I was sitting on the couch in her office, and she'd been sitting in her chair, but she got up, then, and joined me, pulling me into a one-armed embrace. "You and Data have had a connection from the beginning," she said. "We all see it, and we all recognize it as both real and rare, especially for him. No one on this ship is going to question your friendship, and, if it turns into something more someday, we'll all be joyful."

"So what do I do?"

"Well, first," she said. "We go to your quarters, and gather a few more changes of clothes, and your cello. Classes don't begin until after your mother is back, but that doesn't mean you can't resume your music. It will likely help you and Data to restore that aspect of your relationship."

"And then?"

"Data mentioned you hadn't eaten today."

"Counselor…" I said it in the same lightly admonishing tone she'd used on me earlier.

She smiled. "Be his friend. Let him be there for you, as much as he can."

"Why does everyone always qualify that?" I asked, momentarily annoyed, but also honestly curious. "When he was watching over me last January, people kept worrying I wasn't getting emotional support, but I never felt like I missing anything. Even my mother, although she assumed he was being paternal…"

"He wasn't?"

I shook my head. "Never. He was always just…himself. Solid and reassuring and _present_ in a way that most people never are."

The counselor nodded and smiled, as if her empathic sense of me was supporting my words. "Alright, then. Anything else?"

"Well, I'd kind of kill for a cheeseburger," I admitted.

"Betazoids don't eat meat," she said, "and I've got appointments all afternoon, but I bet Commander Riker could be persuaded to accompany you to Ten Forward and join in a ritual devouring of grilled animal flesh." It sounded like she was quoting him.

"The first officer of the ship has time to have lunch with a ki – _student_?" She smiled slightly at my self-correction.

"Actually, he does, if it's for the benefit of the ship and her crew."

"I'm not crew."

"No, but you've become an important part of the _Enterprise _family. Besides, wouldn't you love to hear stories about what your mother was like at the Academy?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" I said.

She grinned, and I couldn't help but grin back.

**(=A=)**

"…so, your mother showed up to class wearing love beads and a three-hundred-year old fringed jacket, and made her presentation on 'folk music as a weapon for change," Commander Riker said. "And Professor Harris –"

"Gran?"

"Yes, your grandmother – showed up with a tambourine and fifty cadets playing kazoos."

"Is there video of this?" I asked him as I stabbed a steak fry into a dish of bleu cheese dressing. "And…only one tambourine?"

"According to Professor Harris, more than one tambourine would be overkill."

"Yeah, that sounds like something she'd say. Were you and Mom in the same year, or just that class?"

"Same year," he said. "Don't tell your mother I told you," he added, leaning across the table, "but we actually dated for a while during our first year. _Everyone_ wanted to date your mother. Emily Morelli was…" he shook his head and grinned. "Sorry. When she married a musician, we were all happy for her, of course, but surprised. She didn't seem the type to marry outside the 'fleet."

"I remember Mom and Dad being good together for a while," I said. "When I was really little. But Dad was always on tour, and Mom was…well, you know…and I was always caught in the middle. I always thought I was more like my father; being on the _Enterprise_ has shown me that's not entirely true."

"And now she's dating the captain's boyhood friend," Riker said. "Amazing."

"Ed says they weren't really friends, so much as classmates. I'm never sure if he's downplaying, or if that's really the truth." I shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I just like that Mom's happy."

He peered at me appraisingly, though his blue eyes betrayed his amusement. "Are you sure you're only sixteen?" he teased.

"Seventeen in a little over four months," I said. "I really need to remind Geordi about the flitter lessons he promised for my birthday, so I'll be ready for the licensing exam at Christmas."

"There's a simulator on the holodeck. Tell him to see me for the clearance code, and start you on that," he offered. "We may not be near enough a planet where it's safe to practice for a while, and it won't hurt the ensigns and cadets to have a little civilian competition for best scores." He seemed to roll something over in his mind. "In fact," he said, "if your classmates haven't taken their exams yet, we should set something up for all of you."

"You'd do that?" I asked.

"I would," he said, grinning, "for Emily Morelli's daughter."

"But…"

"What, 'but?'"

"There's always a 'but,'" I said. "And your eyes have a dangerous gleam in them."

"I'd like you to come sit in with our jazz ensemble. I've been doing some checking up on you – I know you play the cello, but I've heard you also study voice with Lt. Caldwell. It's not formal, we just play."

"Counselor Troi put you up to this," I accused. "Anyway, I'm really not a singer."

"One session, Zoe. It'll be fun."

"Okay," I said. "One session."

"Excellent." He grinned, and then looked at my plate. "Are you going to finish your fries?"

I laughed, and pushed my plate toward him. "Help yourself."

He did.

**(=A=)**

Just as I was finishing lunch with Commander Riker, my friend Ray Barnett – Ensign Ray Barnett – approached our table. "Excuse me, sir," he said. "Counselor Troi said to tell you I'm next."

I looked from the younger man to the older one. "Next?" I asked. "Next what? She's lined up babysitters for me all day?" I wasn't sure if I was frustrated, amused, or touched. Probably all three.

"Not babysitters," Will Riker said. "Companions. Mr. Barnett will be escorting you to the holodeck to meet your friends for…what is it, Ensign? Basket weaving?"

"Actually, I think Josh and Dana have a night-surfing program loaded, sir." He looked at me. "C'mon, Zo', you know you want to."

I realized that Data and the counselor had arranged to keep me occupied for several hours, probably to give me time to process and cool off. "When have I ever said no to surfing?" I asked, deciding to accept it all with as much grace as I could muster. "Thanks for lunch, Commander," I said. "And for the stories. I promise not to blackmail my mother with them."

"Just don't let her find out who told you," he teased.

I left the table, and Ray matched his stride to mind as we walked out of Ten-Forward and into the corridor, and then the turbolift. "Did they tell you _why_ I'm being handled so carefully?" I asked him.

"Only that you've got a stalker or something, and he made a move on you at Starbase 12. You're okay though, aren't you?"

"Mostly," I said. "I mean…physically I'm fine."

"Fine enough to give a friend a hug?"

"Totally fine enough for that." Our hug was warm, brief, and totally platonic. "So, I don't think I told you," I said, "I surfed Stinson Beach over the summer. I didn't see any sharks, though."

He laughed. "Not seeing sharks is a _good_ thing, Zoe." We entered the holodeck where Dana and Josh had already loaded the program. "But if you want to see some, the aquatics lab has a pair of Artridian grace sharks in one of the big tanks. We're ferrying them to Pacifica, for the captive breeding program there."

"Really?" I said. "I've always wanted to see one of those up close."

"I kinda figured," he said. "Go change," and he pushed me toward the cabanas on the holographic beach. "I want to see what you can do on a long board."

For the next couple of hours, the four of us surfed and swam and splashed, and the physical activity and easy camaraderie seemed to be just the tonic I needed. By the time we all collapsed, water-logged, on the moonlit sand, I was feeling much more like the person I'd been all summer, and less like a pawn or a victim.

I looked around at my two best friends and my sometime surf-buddy and smiled. "Guys, this is the best afternoon I could have imagined. Thank you."

Dana came over and hugged me. "Counselor Troi wasn't specific about what's going on with you, Zoe, but whatever it is, you know you're not alone, right?"

"Yeah," Josh said. "But don't think we're not looking forward to the story…when you can tell it."

I threw a wad of damp sand at him. "Brat," I teased.

He threw more sand back at me, "Wench," he teased back.

But we didn't let things escalate the way we normally would have.

Ray called us back into focus. "The three of you are all starting your junior year of high school, right?" he asked. We confirmed it with nods and smiles. "You want some advice from someone who's a little older, if not necessarily wiser?"

"Is this where you tell us to always pick option 'c' on multiple choice exams?" Josh asked.

Ray grinned. "Well, there's that. But actually, what I was going to say is this: junior year is the make-it-or-break-it-year. You're gonna be taking college boards – or at least prelims, your classes are going to get intense, grades are going to count like they never have before. Whenever things start getting crazy, come back to this moment. To the three of you, and the friendship you have. Support each other."

I reached out for his hand, squeezed it, and let it go. None of us had expected him to be that serious. "Thanks, Ray."

"I mean it," he said. "You're going to need each other."

We all murmured things to the effect that we'd do what he said.

"And you," he said looking at me. "I can tell that there are a lot of people watching out for you, and I'm not sure of all the details, but I get the impression it's pretty intense. You need to blow off steam, comm me, and we'll come here and surf it out. Deal?"

I met his eyes, and promised, "Deal."

We hung out for a while longer, and then Josh and Dana excused themselves to go home, and Ray said, "I've got instructions to escort you to Commander Data's quarters. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

I shook my head. "No, we're working on project together, is all, and I agreed to check in with him at regular intervals while my mother's still off-ship." It wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't entirely not-true, either. I went to change back into normal clothes, and we ended the surfing program. "I had fun," I said. "Thank you."

"I meant what I said, Zoe. Any time you need to blow off steam…if I'm not on duty."

I hugged him again. "I know you meant it. You are an awesome friend."

"We shouldn't keep Commander Data waiting."

"No, I agreed, "we really shouldn't."

**(=A=)**

**44676.08 (4 September 2367, 18:30 hours, ship's time)**

Ray left me in the corridor outside Data's door, after favoring me with a brotherly kiss on the forehead. "Comm me," he reminded. "Any time, for anything."

"I just might hold you to that," I teased. After he'd walked off, I reached for the annunciator button, but the door opened before I could press it, and I stepped inside calling, "Data? Are you home?"

"I am here," came his voice from beyond his workstation. I walked all the way into his quarters, past my cello and the extra bag I'd packed earlier, and around the corner of his desk to find him on his knees peering under the couch. I'd never seen him in any position even close to this undignified, and I couldn't help staring.

_Do not ogle the ass of - perish that thought, _I instructed myself, interrupting my own inner monologue. What I said was, "Did you lose something?"

"In a manner of speaking. I am attempting to convince Spot to come out from underneath the couch."

"Oh." I waited a beat. "Why not just lift the couch?"

"The last time she engaged in this behavior, lifting the couch caused her to dart into the bedroom and lodge herself beneath the bed."

"And even you can't move a bed that's molded into the wall without doing serious damage," I said.

"That is correct," he agreed.

"If you want to come out of this piss-poor attempt at _downward dog_," I offered, "I might be able to help you out."

I watched him unfold himself, surprised to learn how flexible his spine was not. Finally he was standing before me, though his uniform was covered in cat hair. "Tell the maid to vacuum under the furniture next time," I teased, reaching to brush him off. He looked at my hands on his shirt, as if unsure how to react to such a familiar gesture, but he neither objected nor stopped me. "I'm not used to seeing you anything other than completely neat and tidy," I said. "Now that you're cat-hair free, all's right with my world." It wasn't, of course, and we both knew it, but he chose not to object to that, either.

"You said you could help entice Spot to emerge from her hiding place," he reminded.

"And so I can. Sort of. There were two packages that I gave you. Have you opened them?" I didn't think he had, but I wasn't sure.

"I have not. I assumed you wished to witness the process. As well, we have both been distracted by other concerns."

I responded with a look and the request, "Could you get the softer of the two? And unwrap it now?"

He did so, carefully removing the paper wrapping – I wondered if I'd see it on a present for me at Christmas or my birthday – and setting it aside. Then he read the package, "'Organic, single-origin, catnip chews.' Zoe, you wish me to intoxicate my cat."

"No," I said. "I wish you to bribe your cat. Or I'll bribe her if it offends your morality." I held out my hand and he shook a single chew into it. I sunk onto the floor, then, and peered under the couch, where Spot was cowering. "Hey, catling," I cooed softly. "Got a tasty treat for you."

Unlike Data, I was almost on my belly, instead of my knees. Spot inched closer to the treat in my outstretched hand, until, when she was almost out from under the couch, I pulled my hand away. She slithered into the open, and jumped, landing on my back.

"Ow! Spot!"

I managed to toss the treat onto the couch, and she pounced onto it, smacking her little cat lips enthusiastically. I couldn't help myself: I started laughing.

"Zoe, are you alright?"

I rolled over. "I'm fine, Data, really." I raised my hand toward him. "Help me up?"

His hand enclosed mine, and he tugged slightly, just enough to help me assume a more vertical position. "Mission accomplished," I grinned. "Now you can buy me dinner."

He was staring at me, probably because I, too, was now covered in cat hair. "If you would like to clean up, and change," he suggested, "I will replicate our meal. As you know, there is nowhere on the _Enterprise_ where one can buy anything."

Holographic ocean water was still salty, and between that and the cat hair, I probably could have used freshening up. "Sounds like a plan," I said. "Can I ask a favor, though?"

"Of course, Zoe. What is it?"

"I noticed you have actual water fittings as well as sonics in your shower."

"It is a 'perk' allotted to senior officers," he confirmed. "The use of water is rationed, of course."

"Of course," I said. "Any chance you'd be willing to share you ration?"

"If you are asking to take a water-shower, then the answer is 'yes, you may,'" he said, avoiding my unintended double entendre and its possible implications.

"Yes! You are awesome. Thank you!" Impulsively, I kissed his cheek, and again, the stud in my tongue felt hotter. I yelped and backed away.

"Zoe?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, using the time to clear my head. Forcing a bright tone, I said, "Shower first, explanation as soon as I'm done. Do you eat eggplant? I'm kind of craving moussaka." I spun around and left him with his cat, locking the bedroom door once I was on the other side of it.

A water shower had never felt as good.

I wrapped my damp hair in a towel while I put on fresh clothes – just a clean t-shirt and sweats – then unwrapped the towel and left it hanging in the bathroom, and rejoined Data in the main room. He'd set the table for two, dimmed the room lights, and lit candles. "Do you have a date?" I asked, eyeing his preparations. His glance in my direction was a sharp one. "Wait, this is for me?" I asked.

"It is for _us,_" he said, pulling my chair out and silently inviting me to sit. "I thought a more subdued atmosphere might help you feel less awkward about temporarily cohabitating with me." My hair brushed against him as I sat down, and he added, "Your hair is damp."

"I didn't bring a hair dryer, and didn't think you'd appreciate me rifling through your things to see if you owned one." He removed thermal covers from the food that was waiting, and I laughed when I realized what it was. "Vegetarian moussaka. Perfect. Please tell me we're splitting a single portion?"

"If that is amenable to you, yes. If not, I can replicate more, however, you have told me before that you would rather 'save the calories' for dessert."

I looked away from him for a long moment. "Yeah, usually. But you're probably not going to let me _have_ dessert after we talk – and we _have _to talk."

He took his place opposite me, and served moussaka and the accompanying salad to both of us. "You saw Counselor Troi." It wasn't a question.

"And had lunch with Commander Riker, and then was delivered to the holodeck for an afternoon of sunless sand and surfing. If you ever decide to leave Starfleet you'd make an awesome event planner, but don't ever become a spy, because your special touch was evident every step of the way."

"It was not meant to be a secret." He ate a bite of moussaka, then continued, stating, "You are angry."

I shook my head. "I'm not, actually. Once I realized what was going on, I thought it was sweet." I took a breath. "Well, I'm not angry at you about _today_. Counselor Troi thinks it's important that I tell you that I _am_ angry with you about…" I gestured first to my mouth and then to the whole room around us. "…everything else."

"You blame me for what Lore has done."

I didn't want to answer, but he was the one person I couldn't lie to, ever. "Yeah. I do. I mean, you told me he wouldn't do anything, that I shouldn't worry that much. You told me that he wouldn't cause me any harm, but he did, and I don't just mean this stupid piercing." I put my fork down. "He's turned me into an accessory. I've lied to my parents. I'm being dishonest with my friends. And yeah, I blame you. But I blame me, too."

"You have done nothing wrong, Zoe." Data said, his voice soft, and intense – well, intense for him.

"Yeah, I have. I put you on a pedestal, and let myself believe you were a superhero, when the truth is you're not. You're amazing, and you have abilities that are uniquely yours…but really, you're just a person." I picked up my fork again, and began to eat. The moussaka really was pretty good.

Data seemed to be at a loss for words, though his mouth quirked up ever-so-slightly, but when we'd both finished our meal and he'd returned the dishes to the replicator, he didn't extinguish the candles. Instead, he brought them to the coffee table, where his remaining present was already waiting. "Please wait for me on the couch," he said.

"Okay." I said, confusion heavy in my tone.

I heard him order something else from the replicator, but couldn't tell what, and when he joined me, he was carrying a tray with tea and a single slice of chocolate cheesecake and my bracelet. "I would not deprive you of dessert merely for telling me the truth, Zoe."

I was more interested in the bracelet. "You tracked the signal?" I picked it up, smiling softly at the sound of the beads clicking together.

"I did. I also disabled the 'bug' so that it will no longer record or relay any information. I apologize for not returning your bracelet as soon as I had identified and removed the extra bead."

I shrugged. "It's okay. I was kind of awful to you this morning. Was that only this morning? Not having any kind of schedule and living with - well, here – has me all…discombobulated." I held out my left hand, the bracelet dangling from my fingers. "Help me put it on?"

He did, and then he reached for the package I'd brought from San Francisco. "Eat your dessert," he suggested, as he carefully peeled away the wrapping to reveal a white, glass, handle-less, "It is a cup."

"It is," I said between bites of chocolate cheesecake, "a United States Navy watch mug, with a certificate of authenticity tracing its use to the U.S.S. Enterprise in Earth's Second World War," I explained. "I chose it because the mugs were meant to keep sailor's hands warm when they were standing watch on submarine conning towers or exposed bridges, and that appealed to me. I also thought the clean lines and its origin might appeal to you."

"Thank you, Zoe," he said. "It is a very thoughtful gift."

"I wouldn't actually drink from it if I were you," I said.

"No," he agreed.

I'd finished the cake and the tea - he'd replicated a pot – was done steeping. I pushed down the plunger, pressing the water out of the tea leaves. "Are you having some?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, adding, "Thank you, Zoe," after I'd filled both our cups.

"Are you on duty tonight?" I asked.

"I am not."

"Any specific plans?"

"I have several projects I am working on, including the ongoing attempt to find Lore."

"You have the same entertainment system in here that everyone else does, don't you?"

"Yes." He sipped some of the tea. "Why?"

"I'm not tired enough to sleep, not in the mood to read, and while I probably _should _actually play my cello sometime before my generous, kind, handsome theory tutor and duet partner decides to resume my lessons, tonight is not that night. I need...I need a dose of 'normal.' I was wondering if we could just watch a video. You can even pick it."

I was expecting him to politely decline. Instead, he engaged the system, and I saw a display monitor drop down from the ceiling. "I will trust your judgment," he said.

I chose a neo-noir crime drama with an intricate plot, though we picked it apart as we watched it, and since I had the mystery solved about half-way through, I was fairly certain Data had done so within fifteen minutes, though he didn't reveal it.

As the credits began to roll, I looked over at him. "Data," I said softly, "we have to get the stud out of my tongue sooner rather than later, don't we?"

"It would be advisable," he agreed.

"Lore said _you_ had to be the one to remove it," I said.

"I am aware."

"I'm really scared," I confessed. "I'm afraid of him, and I'm afraid of what we're going to have to do to get this out of my mouth."

"If I were capable of feeling fear, Zoe," he shared, in a voice nearly as small as mine, "I believe I would be scared as well."

I smiled. "That's oddly reassuring. Thanks for the day, and the evening. You are hereby released from entertainment duty; I'm going to bed." He rose first, taking the tea and dessert things to the replicator to be discarded, and I got up and stretched and headed toward the bedroom. I paused at the door, "G'night, Data." I said, "And thank you again."

He surprised me by stepping close to me and brushing stray hair away from my face. "Sleep well, Zoe. If you need to leave the door part-way open again, please do so." He leaned forward and kissed the top of my head, and the metal stud in my tongue warmed as it had twice before.

"I will," I said. I crawled into bed and was asleep almost before he'd dimmed the lights in the main room. As I drifted off, I heard the sound of his voice, quietly singing.

_I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now  
>But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Notes: <strong>Song lyrics are from "Bitter Sweet Symphony," which was written by Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and Richard Ashcroft, and performed by The Verve. Their version, and the version by the Vitamin String Quartet have been added to the CRUSHING ON CELLO YouTube playlist (see my profile.) Mugs like the one Zoe gave Data are a real thing, and were used in WWII and Korea. Note to Phangirl27: The scene you asked about is in _Crush_, chapter 48. I realize this chapter is incredibly long…but I'm not sorry!


	6. Brooding

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

><p><strong>Brooding<strong>

**Stardate 44679.83**

**(Wednesday 6 September 2367, 03:23 hours, ship's time) **

I woke up in the middle of the night with Lore's voice whispering in my head, and the taste of his kiss on my lips. Oil and acid, I remembered, and sense memory made me feel like I was going to vomit. I raced for the bathroom, not bothering to turn on a light, because there were no stray shoes to avoid, no tossed-aside books or clothes to step over, on _this _floor.

There was also no way to hide the sound of retching from my host? Roommate? My dream-warped brain couldn't pin down a name for what Data was to me in this moment, but it didn't matter, because his shadow fell over me. "Zoe," he asked. "Are you ill? Do you require Dr. Crusher's services?"

"Go away for a minute, please?" I begged, but he didn't. Part of me was annoyed. Part of me was embarrassed. Part of me was grateful, because instead of leaving me alone, he reached for my hair, gently smoothing it away from my face, and holding it out of the way while I finished heaving into the toilet.

They say it's your real friends who will hold your hair while you puke, but I'd always thought that meant best girlfriends.

"Are you finished?" Data asked, calm as ever.

"I think so," I said, sitting back against the bathroom wall. "You didn't have to come running," I said. "But thanks."

He chose not to respond to that directly, asking only, "Can I get you anything?"

It crossed my mind to say no, but he seemed to feel better if he was helping. "Something to drink would be good," I said. "Something carbonated. Ginger ale?"

"I will meet you on the couch," he said, and left.

I waited until I heard the bedroom door swish closed, and then I got up, used the toilet for a completely different purpose, washed my hands, splashed water on my face, and rinsed my mouth out. After the ginger ale, I'd be able to brush my teeth. Not before.

I hooked a sweatshirt from where I'd left it on the foot of the bed, and pulled it on over the t-shirt and sweats I'd been sleeping in. Then I padded out to the main room of Data's quarters, and curled up in my corner of his couch, tucking my feet under me. "Sorry about that," I said. "I'm not sick, really, it was just a really powerful nightmare."

"This is the second night your sleep has been interrupted in such a fashion," Data pointed out, joining me on the couch, and handing me the glass of ginger ale. "If you cannot tell me what you are dreaming, will you tell the counselor? I do not wish to wake her, but we must address this."

"'We?'" I asked after a sip of the cold, fizzy drink. "They're _my_ dreams."

"That is true," he agreed. "But they are related to the incident with Lore, are they not?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to sound grouchy, and failing. "Yeah, they are."

"Zoe…I cannot help if you do not talk to me."

And there it was. I needed to talk to him, and I was afraid to at the same time. On the other hand, today was the first orientation day for the new school year, and I really wanted to be done with dreams and fear before classes started for real on Monday. "Acid," I said softly. "I dreamed he was kissing me and it tasted like acid. Acid and motor oil."

I sensed rather than saw the internal 'click' of information connecting inside his positronic brain. "I do not wish to distress you further," he said, "but when Lore kissed you the first time, do you remember the same…flavor?"

I closed my eyes, and thought about it. Images immediately started playing in my head. Lore holding my hip, Lore holding my chin. Lore kissing me in the tiny hotel room at Starbase 416. I fidgeted on the couch. I didn't want to remember these things, but I could tell Data was so close to a discovery, that I had to.

I felt tears leaking out of my closed eyes.

"The first time," I said. "I don't remember acid. Just the taste of alcohol, but I don't know if it was his or mine."

"And the second?"

I opened my eyes, and met Data's gaze. "Acid. And oil. Mostly acid." I reached for his hand, and he met mine half-way, clasping my fingers with just enough pressure to be supportive. "When I kissed your cheek…the stud got warm." I said. "Both times. I didn't think…I didn't want to think…"

"Zoe." His tone was firm, but not sharp. "It is…all right," he said.

_No it isn't_, I protested silently. _It isn't all right. It's all wrong. Because I'm pretty sure we have to kiss to get this thing out of my tongue, and I don't want to ruin our friendship. _

"Is it?" I asked aloud. "Because if you're thinking what I am…"

"Right now," he said, "I am considering several different sealing compounds that could be delivered orally, and I will need to conduct some experiments to determine which are the most likely. Anything beyond that would be premature." His words were calm, rational, based in science.

I wished I could trust that he was right.

I finished the glass of ginger ale. "I should try to sleep some more," I said. "It would be really bad if I fall asleep in orientation today. My math tutor is kind of strict." I slid my hand out of his, and unfolded myself from the couch. "How do I do it, Data? In class with you tomorrow? How do I sit there and pretend the stud in my tongue is just a stupid teenage thing and has nothing to do with psychotic siblings playing games?"

He rose from his seat and followed me. "Perhaps it is a 'good thing' that you spent a portion of your summer in theatre training," he suggested. "Perhaps you can consider it an acting exercise."

"And if I fail? If I say the wrong thing, or…?"

"Have faith in your own strength and abilities, Zoe. As I do."

Was it a good thing or a bad thing that such a sentiment coming from him seemed perfectly reasonable and normal? I reached to hug him briefly, found solace in the contact, and then slipped into his bedroom, leaving the door open about a quarter of the way. "I'll try," I said, knowing he'd hear me.

_Do _your _kisses taste like acid? _I didn't ask.

But at least there were no more nightmares that night.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44680.59 (6 September 2367, 10:00 hours, ship's time) **

I was in my usual seat in the middle of the conference table, with Dana and Annette flanking me. Josh and a new boy from Akkalla, Rryl, had the seats farthest from me, and Data, as usual, was sitting directly across the table. Except for the change in company, it was the same configuration we'd had for this math tutorial all last school year.

It was the worst possible configuration for me on that day.

You can't exchange confidences with your math tutor in a dimly lit room and then act like nothing has changed when you show up for class. You can't sit across a table and discuss math problems as if nothing has happened, when the man leading the discussion was the same person who held your hair after you puked the night before, and then held you while you cried.

Or at least, I was finding it extremely difficult to do those things.

Data, on the other hand was…Data: apparently unaffected, unflappable, and unfazed.

Sometimes I envied him.

Fortunately this was just an orientation day, and class was only 30 minutes, instead of the full two hours. Data went over this year's syllabus, ensured we'd all downloaded the textbook he'd selected, and assigned review homework to be completed by our first real class on Monday morning.

It wasn't the longest half-hour of my life, but at the time, it felt that way. Then, after he dismissed us, he caught me at the door. "Zoe, a moment, please?"

I glanced at my friends, "See you at lunch, I guess?"

"We'll meet you at Ten-Forward," Annette promised. "Twelve-fifteen, like always."

"Make sure Rryl knows he's invited?" I said. Inclusion was a very big thing for me, and getting to know the new kid would be easier over lunch.

"We will," she said.

The door closed between us, leaving me alone with Data, who was waiting patiently for me to acknowledge him. "Okay," I said, turning back to him. "What horrible news do you have for me, now?"

"I do not believe my news would qualify as 'horrible.' I have identified several possible compounds that may work to unseal your…piercing. I require your presence in order to test them."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Does it have to be now?"

"As you do not have another morning class, if you wish to meet your friends for lunch, yes it must be now."

"Where?"

"My laboratory."

I blinked at him. "You have a lab? How did I not know you have a lab? Are you a mad scientist now?"

"I have always been a scientist, Zoe, but I do not believe I am 'mad.'" He waited a beat then asked, "Will you accompany me?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I? Lead me to your lair, Dr. Frankenstein."

We left the conference room together, as he said, "I believe I would be more analogous to Frankenstein's monster than the doctor himself."

"Naah. You're totally the wrong color, and don't have visible bolts at the base of your neck."

"Zoe…"

He led me into a turbolift, and down to one of the engineering decks, then out of it, and down a corridor, where he punched in a passcode faster than I could even watch.

"Also if any part of this involves me growing a hump, lisping, or calling you 'master', I'm bailing." I said as the door opened. I looked around at consoles, worktables, and a couple of platforms enclosed in clear tubes large enough to hold…."This is where you created Lal." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Are you ever going to try to…I don't even know what word to use…"

"The correct word would be 'repair,'" he said, coming to stand close to me in front of the platform. "I had considered attempting to do so, but I came to believe it would be a dishonor to her memory." I thought about asking what he'd done with her body, but doing so seemed both wrong and morbid. Data surprised me by placing a hand on my shoulder, and turning me to face him. "After Admiral Haftel left the _Enterprise_, the captain authorized a memorial service for her. Her body was placed in a photon torpedo tube and commissioned to the heart of a sun."

"I wasn't going to ask." I said.

"The increase in your pulse rate suggests that you are uncomfortable in this room. I wished to reassure you that you would not stumble across any stray…parts."

"Not so much uncomfortable as nervous, Data," I said. "Or…anxious…I guess. I mean, I know why we're here, and I'm kind of afraid it won't work."

"We will not know unless we try. Please have a seat. I will need to swab the stud in your mouth."

"You're supposed to tell me to open wide and say 'aahh,'" I teased, settling into one of the rolling chairs. "Be warned, I have a really over-active gag reflex."

"I will endeavor to keep that in mind."

An hour or so - and several swabs – later, we'd gotten nowhere. "Data, no offense, but…if you don't give me a break soon, I'm going to die of hunger and boredom and then it won't matter how you get this thing out of my tongue. You want me to come back here and resume lab-rat duties – I'll come without complaint – but I promised to meet my friends, and they're already worried about me."

"I have bridge duty until twenty-hundred hours," he said in response. "Thank you for your help, Zoe. I am sorry it was not more interesting for you, but you are not a lab-rat."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not exactly an active participant, either, Data. Anyway, it wasn't meant as criticism. I know you're doing everything you can, and I also know you're not the entertainment committee, okay? It would be better if you'd explain what you're doing as you're doing it, but when you get involved in something, you go into this quiet zone that's a really odd mix of compelling and eerie. Also, being in this room is kinda creeping me out."

I regretted the last sentence as soon as I uttered it.

"Is it because it reminds you of what I am? I _am_ an android Zoe; that will always be true."

"I know what you are," I said. "Haven't we had this conversation before? It's not what you are that creeps me out. It's…it's…listen, can I please just go meet my friends now? And can we table the rest of this discussion until later tonight, at home?"

I blushed at my accidental reference to his quarters as home, but if he noticed, he said nothing. "You may go," he agreed.

"Am I supposed to meet you somewhere, or wait for you in my quarters or…?"

"I would prefer that you not be alone if you are in public spaces on the ship, and I do not believe your own quarters are safe as long as your piercing is still installed. Should you wish to return home –" I arched a brow at him and he amended his phrasing, "- to my quarters, the lock is programmed to recognize you."

"Since when?" I asked, and then I remembered a couple of nights before, when I'd returned from surfing and the door opened before he invited me in. "Oh," I said. "Never mind." I got out of the chair, and left the room, pausing at the door. "Hey, Data…will you have dinner with me, when you're off-duty?"

"I would be glad to, Zoe."

**(=A=)**

Lunch turned out to be less 'get to know the new kid,' and more 'grill Zoe on where she's been all week,' but I managed to vague it up enough to satisfy my friends as we laughed through plates of fish tacos and pitchers of iced tea.

"So, the thing is," I explained, "I kind of had a stalker in San Francisco, and it's got me a little freaked out. With my mother still off-ship, Data's been kind of keeping an eye on me. Well, Data and Counselor Troi. It's kind of like being grounded, in a way. I mean, my mother doesn't make me check in as often as Data does." I wasn't being entirely truthful, but I wasn't really lying either."

"Is this normal?" Rryl asked. "For teachers to socialize with students?"

"It's not not-normal," Josh said. "Especially with teachers like Data and the Prof, who volunteer their time."

"Data's more properly 'Lieutenant Commander Data,'" Annette explained. "He's the second officer of the ship."

"Yeah," Dana added, "And Zoe's his favorite."

"Guys, that's not true," I protested. "Rryl, Data's an android. He can't actually have favorites. We do spend a lot of time together, though, because he's also tutoring me in music theory and coaching me in technique."

"Technique," Josh teased, "ooh, Zoe, what kind of _technique_ do you get coached in?"

I was sorely tempted to throw my taco at him, but it was so good to be eating crunchy food, that I gave him my very best glare instead. "Josh, dear, I will remember this the next time you need someone to proof an essay and Dana isn't around. You know perfectly well, he's only coaching me in cello."

"So, is that why you haven't been at home the last few days?" Dana asked. "We went by your cabin this morning, and no one answered."

"I've kind of had to do a lot of check-ins," I said. "And then Dr. Crusher has been supervising the aftercare for my piercing."

"Piercing?" I'd forgotten that Josh hadn't seen it yet. "What piercing. Zoe, did you get a navel ring?"

"Nope," I said. "Better." I took a swig of iced tea to make sure my mouth was relatively free of grossness, then stuck my tongue out at him.

Rryl also took a look. "On Akkalla," he said, "piercings like that are thought to enhance certain private activities between lovers."

I blushed, suddenly very glad Data was on bridge duty and nowhere near the lounge. "I'd never thought of that," I said. "For humans, it's more a fashion statement than anything else."

"I have this sudden image of the junior-year language and lit class getting assignment to write an essay on the history of body piercing in a chosen culture," Annette said. "I almost wish I was in your year, so I could read the results"

We all laughed, and then I turned to Rryl. "Akkalla's a water-world, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "We do have landmasses, but they are mostly islands, and everyone lives a life connected to the ocean."

Josh and I glanced at each other, and then asked him in tandem, "So, do you surf?"

It turned out that he did.

**(=A=)**

While it was technically true that I wasn't scheduled for any classes that afternoon, I did make it a point to check in with Lt. Caldwell to see when – or if – we were resuming my voice lessons. She was actually excited about continuing, and we agreed on a schedule and a focus on performance and voice care – how to preserve your singing voice when you were doing multiple performances a week.

"I have a feeling this is stuff you're going to need to know, Zoe," she told me.

"Wow, I spend one summer doing arts camps and suddenly everyone thinks I'm going to be a star," I teased.

"Not a star, necessarily," she said. "But definitely a competent professional, if it's what you want." We were in one of the music rooms on the same 'rec deck' as the smallest holodeck. It, too, was fitted with holographic emitters, but only so that the user of the space could specify the available instruments or technology. That day, it was a piano with a bench, a stool, and, in the corner, a comfortable couch, which is where we were sitting.

"I wish I knew what I wanted," I said. "All my life I thought I was going to just do music, go to the Martian like my father, and make a career as a classical musician. This last year, things have been changing."

"That's very normal, Zoe, even for people as focused as you have been."

"You could have had a career," I pointed out. "You _had_ a successful start as a child performer. What made you give up that life and choose Starfleet instead?"

"I've always loved science, and I've always wanted to be an explorer," she said. "I realized that I didn't want to be one of those touring musicians who only ever sees the insides of hotel rooms between gigs, and…Starfleet also gave me a sense of family." She paused. "The life of a performer is a hard one, Zoe. You're always auditioning for the next thing, competing for every job you get. There's competition out here in space, too, but it's not the same."

"That makes sense, I guess." I said.

"You're not considering applying to the Academy?" Like every other officer, she pronounced it with a capital 'a.'

"What? Me? Perish the thought," I said. "No, I'm…I'm just…gathering information." I got up to leave. "Thanks for the talk, I'll see you Monday afternoon."

She walked me to the door, "Anytime you want to meet, just comm me," she said. "And Zoe…don't you think it's time you used my first name?"

"Sure," I said. "Thanks, Jessie."

Her laughter was musical, of course, bubbling out of her like a pitch-perfect waterfall of sound.

**(=A=)**

I left the studio, unsure of what to do next. Annette was meeting with the head of the ship's school to ensure that she was still on track for graduating in the spring. Josh and Dana did have an afternoon orientation. Rryl was watching his younger sister for a couple of hours, and anyway, I barely knew him…and I felt betwixt and between, and a little paranoid. Data had said I shouldn't be alone, but my usual haunts – the aquatics lab, the observation lounge where I used to have music lessons with Seth, the ship's library – weren't at all appealing.

I rounded a curve, stepped into a turbolift, and ran into Guinan. "You look like a young woman with a dilemma," she said.

"More than one," I agreed. "Some more immediate than others."

"Well," she said, "I was about to go back to my cabin to have a cup of tea. I think the company of a person such as yourself might enhance the experience. Would you like to join me?"

_Tea with Guinan? Definitely. _"Yes," I said. "Thank you."

She told the turbolift to resume its journey, and we got out on another part of deck ten, walked a significant way down the corridor, and then stopped at her door. "Welcome to my home, Zoe," she said as we entered.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but Guinan's space felt like stepping into a warm embrace. Candles were glowing everywhere. It crossed my mind to wonder how she got away with leaving them lit, but it didn't seem terribly important. Instead of a couch she had a pair of papa-san chairs, and the doorway to the bedroom was hidden behind a folding screen. "Wow," I said.

"Do you like my home?" the enigmatic older woman asked.

"I had no idea you could make a starship cabin look so…unstarshippy." I said. "It's amazing."

"Thank you. Have a seat." She gestured to one of the two chairs near the window, and I folded myself into one of them. "You look like an herbal tea sort of person. Mint, I think?"

"Am I that obvious, or do you track orders in Ten-Forward?"

"Mint is a stimulant, and you don't like to feel bored or useless. It makes sense."

"I guess."

"I see you still have your piercing." She was prepping cups and boiling water on a hot-pad while she spoke. "Your mother will be home in two days, won't she?"

"I do," I said, "and she will. Data and I spent a good chunk of the morning trying different compounds to unseal it." I could feel her dark eyes on me. "Well, Data was trying different compounds. I was pretty much just his lab-rat. Although…watching him work when he's really focused on a puzzle…that was sort of intense."

"You're good for him," was Guinan's response.

"Am I?" I said. "Sometimes it feels like we have this deep connection that defies time and space, and sometimes it's like I'm just one more task he has to complete."

"No," she said. "You're not a task."

"No," I agreed. "I'm just his student." I imbued the word 'student' with all the frustration I felt at the whole situation with Lore, with the thing in my mouth.

"I'm pretty sure Data doesn't think you're 'just' anything. Just like I'm pretty sure you don't see him as 'just' an android."

"He isn't. He never has been. He's…himself."

"You love him."

"I might have a crush on him," I allowed. "But, that's all. Anyway, even that doesn't matter. There's too much in the way. And job-one is getting this out of my tongue."

She shook her head. "No. You definitely love him. Here, drink this."

She pressed a mug into my hands, and I took it, and sipped carefully. "This isn't mint," I said. "I mean…" and I had another sip, "…it's got mint in it. But also…carob, I think. And maybe cocoa?"

"You've got a discerning palate. It's a children's tea, but I think it's important for adults to drink it from time to time."

"It's really good," I said. I waited a beat, watched her settle into the chair opposite mine. "It doesn't matter if I love him or not. Or it won't."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, first, he doesn't have feelings… and second…I'm pretty sure that in order to get this out, we're going to have to cross a line in teacher-student behavior that will ruin everything."

"You mean, you have to kiss."

I stared at her. "How did you know?"

"I know a lot about a few things, and a little about many," was her cryptic response. "Data's emotions are subtle, Zoe, but they're there if you know how to look. If you take the time to see him, as you have."

"I'm still learning to see him," I said.

"Exactly, you're a student. So is he."

"_Data_ is?"

"The best of us never stop being students," she said. "Data is a student of the human condition."

"Yeah, but there are students and…_students_." I said.

"True enough. But the choice of which one you are is yours."

"Is this supposed to be helping?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"I guess…" I said slowly, putting my thoughts in careful order. "I guess it is. I mean…yeah, I love him. It's not romantic love, exactly. It's…it's like he's family, but soul-deep. And maybe one day, it _could_ be more."

"I suspect it will be."

"Everyone keeps telling me that. Do you all tell him the same thing?"

"I don't know about 'everyone.' I only know about me. I tell him the same thing: that you and he are good for each other, that you and he are connected, and that you both have to learn to trust that connection."

"Does he know…what we really have to do?"

"Do you think he does?"

"I think he's trying to protect me, as much as he can."

"I agree."

I drank more of the tea, becoming more and more certain there was some secret ingredient I wasn't able to identify. It was really good tea, though.

"How do you know we have to kiss?" I asked. "I mean…how did you figure it out?"

She canted her head slightly to one side in a gesture reminiscent of the man we'd been discussing. "It wouldn't have been put in your mouth, otherwise," she said.

"I'm afraid of losing my friend," I told her.

"Don't be. Trust Data. Trust yourself." For a moment it was as though she was listening to the universe. I'm pretty sure it was speaking to her. "You're going to go through a period of disconnect," she said. "But it won't be complete and it won't be permanent." Her eyes refocused on me. "Drink up," she said. "I have a feeling you've got a very busy evening ahead of you."

I drained the mug. We talked for a few minutes longer, about my summer, mostly, and then she politely shooed me away.

"Thank you for the tea," I said. "And the conversation."

"You're welcome," she said.

I got the feeling she meant it in many more ways than I was capable of even counting.

**(=A=)**

When I returned to Data's quarters, I found a message tag with the reminder that he'd be home at twenty-hundred hours, and a request to feed Spot at eighteen-thirty if I was back by then. I didn't have homework, since classes hadn't started yet, and all I wanted was a nap.

A nap and a shower.

Crawling into Data's bed when he wasn't there felt a little like taking a liberty I hadn't earned, but since he'd requested that I not go home alone, and since the couch just wasn't that comfortable, I set an alarm, and wrapped myself in the quilt I'd brought with me from my own room.

I didn't have nightmares, but Guinan's advice and Lore's taunts circled in my brain, forming patterns and clues, and when I woke up two hours later to Spot purring near my ear, I was certain of two things: a kiss _was_ what Lore had planned all along, and Spot was _never_ going to leave my hair alone.

**(=A=)**

Showered (with dry hair thanks to the hair dryer I'd found waiting in the bathroom) dressed in fresh jeans and a blouse rather than a t-shirt, I set Data's table for dinner. Nothing fancy: a casserole of zucchini, cashews and a yogurt sauce that was a favorite of my mother's, and had been added to the vast collection of replicator fare available on the _Enterprise. _It was comfort-food, but not kid-food.

I didn't light candles, but I did have the lights slightly dimmed when Data arrived from his shift on the bridge, though I didn't hear him enter because I was curled up on the couch with music playing into headphones as I did my best to escape into a novel – an historical epic that took place partly during the French revolution and partly about three hundred years later, and involved a search for some mystical chess board. I would probably have enjoyed it more if I actually played chess, but the characters were interesting.

His hand on my shoulder shook me from my reading. "Oh," I said, stopping the music and pulling the headphones out of my ears. "Hi, Data. Dinner's ready when you are. It's a family recipe." I set a bookmark to save my place and switched off my padd. "I fed Spot, but I didn't clean her litter box because I wasn't sure where to…put stuff."

"I will take care of it later," he said. "Are you ready to eat?" He seemed oddly stiff, even for him.

"Sure," I said. I stood up and slid my feet into my shoes, but I didn't move toward the table. Instead, I reached out and touched his arm. "Are you okay?" I asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You did not." He glanced at my hand on his arm, and I saw him note the presence of my bracelet. "You may be interested to know that a representative of the Keep Earth Human League confirmed that the organization contracted with a third party to set and detonate the bombs at Starbase Twelve," he said.

"Are you supposed to be telling me this?"

"It will be on all the news nets in the next day or so."

"Is Lore the one they hired? Because you have to admit, there's some delicious irony in an android setting a bomb on behalf of an organization that wants to make Earth a humans-only club."

"That part of the investigation is not yet closed."

"Oh." I felt antsy and unsettled. I wondered if he could tell.

"Zoe, you seem agitated this evening. What can I do to help you?"

"A slug of whiskey wouldn't hurt," I said, causing him to look sharply at me. "Or, failing that, any kind of decent vodka. Not the kind that's infused with flavors, though. Those are too weird." I was kidding. Mostly.

"Is there some reason you require such a drink?"

"It would be relaxing," I said. "I guess I'm 'agitated' because I know that no matter how many compounds you tested this morning, and no matter how many more you test tonight, there's only one way we're getting this stud out of my mouth."

"That is not certain," he corrected me. "It is possible that I may find another solution. Dr. Crusher could also surgically remove the…" He trailed off in response to the look I was giving him. "That is not my preferred option."

"Data, the stud got warm when I kissed your cheek. It got warm when you kissed the top of my head. Nothing you stuck in my mouth on the end of a cotton swab did anything this morning, and I'm pretty sure at least some of those swabs had more than a trace of your saliva on them – thanks for not telling me, by the way - I know you've probably got a gazillion other things to try, but all the clues are there. I've been going over and over it in my head, and I had a very helpful conversation with Guinan earlier, and she agrees."

"With Guinan?" his expression was both interested and intense.

I nodded, then repeated, "Everything he said, everything he did. He said he had the first and second _taste_. He said to make sure _you_ removed it. He referenced that conversation about intimacy on purpose. And Guinan said he wouldn't have put it where he did if we weren't supposed to…" I trailed off, embarrassed.

"Kiss," he said.

"Yeah."

"I had reached the same conclusion," he admitted.

"When?"

"Approximately seventeen point six seconds after you told me everything that had happened." Only an android would consider time down to the decimal an approximation.

"You might have told me."

"I did not wish to make you uncomfortable."

"Data, there are a _lot_ of things about this whole situation that have made me uncomfortable. Trust me, the thought of kissing you doesn't even make the top fifty."

"I am not entirely certain it will work, Zoe. I _am _certain that there must be another way."

I thought about pushing the issue, but I was pretty sure it would only make things more awkward between us. "Fine," I said. "You're in charge. Can we eat now?"

"That would be acceptable."

Over dinner, I told him about my meeting with Lt. Caldwell and our plan for my voice lessons for the next year.

"I have never heard you sing," he observed. "Other than the occasional line or two when you are attempting to tease me."

"'Attempting?' No, Data, I _am_ teasing you when I do that. You just don't react very often." I hesitated. "You knew I was taking lessons. I assumed you just weren't interested. The next time you're desperate for entertainment, feel free to ask."

"I will do so."

We finished our meal and while he returned the dishes to the replicator I went to brush my teeth and rinse my mouth. He was on the couch when I returned to the main room. "You're not working tonight?"

"I assumed you would prefer to watch something before bed. I will work afterward."

"I don't like that I'm keeping you from your normal schedule."

"You are not," he said. "However, tonight it is my turn to 'pick the movie.'"

I laughed, and went to join him on the couch. "So, what are we seeing tonight?"

He had selected a really old film called _Casablanca_. "Captain Picard recommended this to me several years ago," he explained. "He said it was something one should watch 'with a friend.'"

We skipped tea that night. Halfway through the story, I stopped paying attention to the actors on the screen and started watching Data, at the way his eyes widened ever so slightly from time to time, and at the way he leaned forward a little bit during key parts of the plot. When it was over, just before midnight, I got up, intending to go to bed, but he was right behind me.

"Zoe," he began, and then stopped.

I turned to face him, and my breath caught as I realized just how close he was standing. _Do your kisses taste like acid?_ I didn't ask. What I said was, "I have to know."

He opened his mouth to say something, probably to ask what I was talking about, and I took advantage of that brief hesitation, put my hands on his shoulders, and kissed him.

I expected him to push me away.

He didn't.

I expected a flood of bitter acid.

It never came. Instead I tasted faint sweetness and a hint of cashew.

There was a split-second delay and then his mouth moved against mine.

I felt his hand go to my waist, felt the gentle pressure that could have pushed or pulled.

There was a burst of heat inside my mouth, and then a sort of click that I felt more than heard. The ball at the bottom of the barbell in my tongue released. I backed away, put my hands to my mouth, and pulled the stud out. Data was staring at me, but didn't say anything.

Inexplicably, I started to cry, but I handed him the stud before I completely lost control. "Data, I'm sorry," I said. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry." I pressed his fingers closed around the cylinder of metal.

I heard him say my name, heard him tell me to wait, but all I could think was that I_ had_ to get out of there. I turned on my heel and ran out of his quarters, and toward the closest bank of turbolifts. A car arrived just as I did, and I got in, giving the deck number for the aquatics lab.

The cool blue-lit space was empty, save for the various animals in their tanks. I found the bench that had been placed in front of the Artridian grace sharks and collapsed onto it. As the shadowy lace-finned fish swam circles in their glass enclosure, I let my tears fall freely.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes: <strong>Jessie Caldwell isn't a canon character, but she's mentioned a couple of times in "Crush." My version of Guinan's quarters is based partly on the couple of times we glimpse them on-screen, and partly on my own notion of what her taste might be. Rryl's homeworld, Akkalla is from the TOS novel _Deep Domain_ by Howard Weinstein. To Phangirl27, sorry your opening night didn't go well. That happens. Special thanks to Javanyet for help given _months_ ago with a specific part of this chapter.


	7. Confessions

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

><p><strong>Confessions<strong>

**Stardate 44682.40 **

**(Thursday, 7 September 2367, 01:52 hours, ship's time) **

The thing about sharks is, they're perfectly content to let you cry your salty tears outside their tank, but they're not exactly great at giving pep-talks. So when I had cried my tears, I sat for a while and just watched them turning their endless, gentle circles.

Well, I didn't _just_ watch the grace sharks. I also let the conversations I'd had – with Data, with Counselor Troi, and with Guinan – form their own circles inside my head. _Trust yourself_, Guinan had said. _Trust Data. _ Counselor Troi's advice had been much the same. _Data needs you right now, as much as you need him_, she'd told me. On the other hand, she also believed I should just tell him how I felt.

My own thoughts were also turning circles. _Be careful what you wish for, Zoe,_ I said to myself. _You may get it, but you won't get it the way you wanted to. _

Data would come find me if I waited long enough, I knew, but I didn't want to be the girl who has to have some guy come rescue her. It wasn't like we were going to fall into each other's arms, exchange smoochies, and live happily ever after, anyway.

I left the aquatics lab and marched…well, walked purposefully…back to the turbolift and Data's quarters.

His door opened for me, and I stepped inside and nearly ran into him. "Zoe," he said, with more weight in the two syllables of my name than I'd ever heard before. "I was not certain you would return," he added.

"Neither was I," I admitted. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I was on my way to the aquatics lab to find you."

"Oh."

"I believe my next line should be 'we need to talk,'" he said.

"If you're going to tell me that I crossed a line, and that I shouldn't have kissed you when you'd already said you preferred to find another method of removing that stud – never mind that it _worked_ – you should know that I'm sorry if I destroyed our friendship, and I'm sorry I didn't let you do things your way, but I'm not sorry for what I did."

"Zoe –"

But I wasn't done. "Ever since February, ever since Lore kissed me the first time, I've had this _awareness_ of you burning in my brain, but even before that everyone was telling me my friendship with you is real and rare and something special, and that no one would be surprised if it evolved into something deeper someday. I don't know if that's true, or if I just want to believe it is, but I _do_ know that I _hate_ your brother. I _hate_ him for playing games with you, and I _hate_ him for maybe causing the deaths of a lot of people, and I _hate_ him for sticking that thing in my mouth and cheating me – cheating _us_ – out of what should have been a tender and special moment, albeit one far, far in the distant future."

I was crying again before I finished my speech, but it wasn't the same kind of crying that had happened right after we kissed. That had been shock, I think. The tears that came with my…well…rant, really, represented all the pent-up emotions from the last several days finally finding release.

His arms came around me then, with no stiffness at all, and he just held me while I cried myself out, his hands tracing soothing circles on my back until I was calm. I lifted my head and pushed against his embrace, stepping back just far enough to look into his face.

He ducked his head slightly, meeting my eyes. "Are you…feeling better?"

"Never underestimate the cleansing properties of a really good sob-session," I said. "I hadn't planned a meltdown for today."

"Perhaps you were simply due for one," he suggested. "It has been an eventful week for you, and a challenging time for us both. If we are to continue our…friendship…you must learn not to 'bottle up' your feelings."

"Are we?" I asked. "Going to continue our friendship?"

He led me to his couch, waited for me to settle into my corner, and then stepped away to replicate two mugs of tea. "It is chamomile," he said, handing me one of them, and sitting down himself. "You have not destroyed anything."

"Haven't I?"

"You have _not_," he reiterated, putting force behind the words. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized he must have learned to use his voice that way for command situations. "You were not the only participant in that kiss," he said. "I did not stop you."

"I didn't leave you much choice," I countered, wrapping my hands around the mug of steaming liquid.

His eyebrows wrinkled slightly, his head tilted, and his 'teaching' expression took over his face. "Have you forgotten I am an android? I could easily have pushed you away."

I sipped some of the tea using the time to replay everything that had happened. "You kissed me back," I said after I'd swallowed some of the calming brew.

"Yes."

"You put your hand on my waist," I added.

"Yes," he said again.

"Okay, can I just mention that it's really weird when _you_ go all monosyllabic? That's supposed to be _my_ bit."

"Yes," he said a third time, but I saw the corners of his mouth lift up ever-so-slightly. He waited for the hint of a smile to appear on my own face, then continued, completely serious once again, "You began to cry, after you removed the stud. I called your name, and asked you to wait, but you did not."

"I was scared."

"Of me?"

I shifted my mug to one hand and reached for his free hand with the other. It didn't feel any different than any other time I'd touched him. Shouldn't it have? "Never," I said. "I could never be afraid of you. I was afraid you wouldn't talk to me again, afraid you'd send me back to Mom's empty cabin for the next two nights, afraid someone would misinterpret what happened and take you apart, afraid I'd never get another chance to…never mind."

I began to slide my hand away but he recaptured it. "I did not mean to make you cry," he said. "It…I should not have let things continue."

"Why did you?" I asked, staring at our clasped hands. "Didn't you tell me once that you had an ethics program? Shouldn't it have been screaming in some kind of digital distress?"

"I performed a self-diagnostic as soon as you left," he said softly. "It revealed no errors or malfunctions. I can only conclude that a kiss meant as a means to an end was not a breech of my programming, even if removing the data solid from your tongue was only part of your motivation."

"I was…curious," I admitted. "That was a good part of it. I wanted to know if kissing you would be different."

"Because I am an android?"

"You really need to move past your androidy-ness," I teased lightly. "I wanted to know if kissing you was different than kissing – well, being kissed _by_ – Lore."

"Was it?" I couldn't tell if he was asking as a man or as a scientist. Probably it was a bit of both.

"Only in about a thousand ways, none of which I really want to go into…except he's made me into him, in a way. You can't have wanted to –"

He stopped me with a look. "It is possible," he said softly, "that I wished to test your theory. It is also possible," he added, "that I was curious, as well."

I resisted the urge to ask him how many times _he'd_ kissed Lore. "So what happens now? Should I pack my stuff and go home? Do I have to worry that the relationship police will come and kidnap you and turn you into so many bits and pieces?"

"No one will 'take me apart,'" he said. "Please try not to worry about that. As to your sleeping arrangements, I still believe you are better off where I am able to watch over you, if only to render assistance should you have another nightmare. However if you are uncomfortable staying here –"

"I'm not," I said, before he could finish. "I _was_ for the first day, but after that…being here…" I shrugged. "It's been okay."

"Then as you have finished your tea, and as it is now quite late, I believe you should go to bed."

I started to yawn as soon as he said it, and blushed faintly. "I believe you're right," I said, imitating his tone. He released my hand, and I leaned over and kissed his cheek the same way I had days before when things between us had been a lot better defined. "G'night, Data," I said, getting up and heading off to wash up and change before going to sleep.

"Good night, Zoe," came his response through the mostly-closed bedroom door. "Pleasant dreams."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44683.39**

**(Thursday, 7 September 2367, 10:35 hours, ship's time)**

On a starship, there's never light streaming through the window to tell you that you've seriously overslept. I don't know if I forgot to set an alarm or if Data chose to let me enjoy a night without bad dreams, but when I woke up it was after ten.

Drowsily, and somewhat reluctantly, I dislodged Spot, who had taken to sleeping on the pillow next to my head, and left the bedroom to retrieve pre-shower coffee. I'd expected the place to be empty, for Data to be on duty, but instead he was at his console engaged in deep, quiet conversation with Geordi LaForge.

I couldn't tell what they were saying, entirely, but I heard words like _Lore_, _chip_, and _Terlina_ _III, _and _Maddox. _ "I'm sorry," I said when Data paused the conversation and looked up to greet me. "I didn't know…I mean, I didn't mean to interrupt…I mean..." Geordi was staring at me, and I suddenly realized how my presence in Data's bedroom, in pajamas, must look to him. "I just wanted coffee," I said finally. "It can wait, though," I said, and then, before I turned away, I added, "I'm really sorry."

Their voices overlapped, with Geordi asking incredulously, "Zoe…Data, she's living with you?" while Data assured me that I had not interrupted.

"We did not mean to wake you," the android added. "I hoped you would sleep longer. You did not get to bed until nearly zero four hundred hours."

"It's past ten-thirty," I pointed out. "I'm pretty nocturnal, but I'm not actually a vampire." I turned to address Geordi. "Good morning, Commander LaForge," I said. "I'm guessing from your reaction that you were not in the loop on my current living situation?"

"Understatement of the year," he said, glancing from Data to me and then back. "Data," he said to our host. "Tell me you and Zoe aren't…"

"Living in delicious sin?" I offered. If I wasn't getting coffee, I could at least have a little fun. Couldn't I?

"Something like that," the engineer said.

"Zoe has been staying here as a protective measure," Data said, before I could say anything else. "Her mother is due back on the ship late tomorrow, at which time she will return to her usual quarters."

I could see Geordi taking in that information, rolling it over in his mind, and accepting it. "Okay," he said slowly. "I guess it makes sense, considering. But you have to admit it looks a bit strange."

"I believe that Zoe has kept her presence here reasonably discreet," Data responded to his friend.

"Zoe is standing right here," I sing-songed, because they'd obviously forgotten about me. "And she is desperate for coffee and a bagel. Can I get anything for either of you?"

"Actually, coffee would be great," Geordi said. "If you don't mind company at breakfast? Shouldn't you be in classes?"

"It's orientation week. Ed's off-ship with my mother, and I have nothing else in the morning, although Ms. Phelps did ask to see me before the end of the day. Not that this is at all relevant to either of you." I busied myself replicating two coffees and a pitcher of cream, "Commander LaForge, do you need sugar?" I called out.

"Yes, thanks," he answered. "And since when do you call me anything but 'Geordi?'"

"Since however long ago it was that I walked out here," I said.

"Seven minutes, thirty-three point four seconds," Data supplied helpfully. "Zoe, please ensure that whatever you eat this morning contains at least a few nutritional elements."

"Data, you're starting to sound like her," Geordi observed, chuckling.

Unseen by either of them I rolled my eyes. I also ordered a ham and cheese omelet and a side of hash browns to go with my bagel, and while it was a little awkward at first, Geordi and I settled into pleasant breakfast table conversation, while Data remained at his workstation.

"You're, what, a sophomore this year?" the engineer asked me, while eyeing my bagel.

"Here," I said, giving him half of it. "Bagels were meant to be shared. And no, I'm starting my junior year, which means I'm already getting inundated with college brochures, and we haven't even taken our college boards, yet."

"I know you're _not_ considering the Academy," he teased, "so where are you thinking. I can't imagine anyone from this ship is academically weak…"

"The truth?" I asked, and when he nodded, I told him (between bites of breakfast), "I always thought I was going to audition for The Martian, like Dad, but lately I've been thinking it might be smart to go to a more…academically inclined…institution that still has a good arts program. Mom's parents are both Yale graduates, so I'm considering both of those…Yale has a better drama department though."

"You're not planning to major in music?"

"I might, I might not. I have a long time before I have to decide that, and honestly? I know enough musicians who did nothing else all through their higher education years, and while they play like gods, you can't hold a conversation with them. I don't want to be that…limited."

It was difficult to tell through his visor, but the cant of his head and the pitch of his voice told me the look I'd just received had been an appraising one. "Somehow, Zoe, I doubt that will ever be the case with you."

"I hope not," I said, as I stabbed the last few bites of potato. "I _really_ hope not." Breakfast finished, I got up and returned my plate and mug to the replicator. "I'm going to go change and get out of your way," I said, addressing Data, that time. "See you for dinner?"

"I will be home by twenty-hundred hours," came his response. "Do not forget your comm-badge when you leave."

I flashed him a grin then disappeared into his bedroom, locking the door behind me.

**(=A=)**

"Stick out your tongue," the doctor told me. As she had before, she grabbed the tip with forceps, and examined it with her eyes and with a medical tricorder. "Well, Zoe, you have three choices. If the puncture is bothering you, I can heal this with a dermal regenerator, although it's perfectly fine to let it heal naturally."

"That's two choices," I said. "What's behind door number three?"

"If you want to, you could put a new stud in. One that doesn't contain a secret message."

"You'd do that? Aren't you bound by some parental oath?"

"I'm not your parent," she pointed out. "And it would save you from having to explain how you got it out, but the holes from piercings close quickly; you don't have much time to decide."

I thought about it. "Part of me wants to," I said, "Just to freak Mom out – because annoying your parents is always a really wise basis for a decision, right? If I were to put a new stud in…would it be easily removable. I mean…"

"No wacky android sealants," she promised. "Just normal threaded barbells."

"Do they come in purple?" I asked.

"We can replicate one in any color you want."

"Can it be a little shorter, though? The original…I kept clicking it against my teeth."

"Yes."

I thought about Guinan telling me I wasn't likely to keep the piercing, but I also thought about the fact that I was sixteen, and I was due for a little healthy rebellion. "Do it," I said. "Please."

Doctor Crusher moved toward the replicator and had it create a surgical-grade tongue stud in my preferred color. Less than ten minutes later, I left with new jewelry installed. "Do I need to remind you about paying attention to washing out your mouth for the next several weeks?"

"No," I said. "I know the drill. Thank you."

I was almost out the door, when she stopped me with a final question, "Zoe, how did you get the other one out?"

"You'll have to ask Data," I told her. "I'm not exactly sure what finally worked." It wasn't the truth, exactly, but it wasn't really a lie, either, since I wasn't sure _why _kissing him had released the stud, only that it had.

"I'll do that," she said. "Now, scoot."

Laughing, I dashed out the doors, across the corridor to the turbolift, and down two decks to the school administrator's office, where Ms. Phelps had, apparently, been eagerly awaiting my arrival.

"Welcome back, Zoe," she said. "Did you enjoy your summer break? Have a seat."

"Most of it was amazing," I answered, dropping into one of the chairs in front of her desk. "There were a few bobbly moments, but I survived."

"Obviously," she said, her voice and eyes reflecting warm amusement. "I look forward to your essays describing each experience," she added.

"Is that a requirement?"

"It is if you want credit for the courses."

"I didn't even realize that was an option," I said. "I mean, it was just a couple of summer workshops."

"You won't get credit for a full semester," she explained, "but each workshop will count as an elective. You have until the end of September to finish the essays, and I'll send the guidelines – required word-counts, and the like – to your padd."

"Okay," I said. "Is that all you needed me for?"

"I'm afraid there's more."

"I knew it was too good to be true," I said glumly.

"Oh, it's not as bad as all that," she said. "I just wanted to go over your schedule for the year. I know you're not interested in the Academy, but if you want to go to an academic institution, and not an arts academy, we need to make sure you meet the entrance requirements."

"I have a 3.9 average," I said. "I'm in all advanced placement courses. What requirements could I possibly _not_ be meeting?"

"Actually," she said, glancing at her computer screen. "You're short a science credit, and I think you should consider tracking any dance or athletics that you do, in lieu of an actual physical education class."

"P.E.?" I asked, surprised. "I'm short on P.E.?"

"And science," she reminded me. "I know you surf – and I've seen you in the Pilate's studio – just log your time doing those things, and P.E. is covered. As to science, I'd recommend something that involves lab time."

"I took biology on Centaurus, and chemistry here last year."

"I'd suggest an advanced biology course. If you don't want to try to fit in a scheduled class, perhaps you could create a work-study arrangement in one of the labs. You'd have to get permission from the person in charge of the lab, and the chief of ship's operations; that would be –"

"Commander Data," I said before she could. "I know."

"If you wish me to contact him for you?"

I shook my head, "We see each other almost every day. Remember? I'm in his math tutorial and he's giving me private music theory lessons."

"Ah," she said, "I'd forgotten you were his protégé. Well, then, you know what to do. I'll send the work-study guidelines to your padd as well."

"Okay," I said. "Thanks." I started to get up, but hesitated long enough to ask, "Is that everything?"

"For now," she said, smiling. "Have a great semester, Zoe."

I promised her that I would try.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44684.16**

**(Thursday, 7 September 2367, 17:15 hours, ship's time)**

By the time I returned to Data's quarters, I'd been to the orientation meetings for Vulcan II, and Spanish III, and also had some serious hang-out time with Annette and Dana in the former's living room, where we'd shared our excitement and complaints about the classes we were taking that school year and then made plans to meet for lunch the next day.

I'd also taken a few moments to contact my father, who didn't even notice the piercing in my tongue, and review with him what I'd planned to focus on in voice lessons.

"Make sure Lorna starts teaching you about breath control," he'd advised.

"She's using her middle name now," I said, "Jessie. Not that I blame her; Lorna's a frumpy name, and she's definitely not frumpy."

Laughing, my father agreed, "No, I suppose she's not."

"I should go," I said when we'd also discussed what I should be working on with Data. "Give Gia a hug from me. Can't wait 'til Christmas."

"I love you, Zoetrope," he'd responded. "Talk soon."

Subspace messages were never enough.

It was after five before I realized that I hadn't touched my cello since I'd left the Suzuki Institute, except to transport it home, and that with Saturday Sessions due to resume in two days, I should at least make an effort to sound like I hadn't blown off my instrument for nearly two months.

When I opened the case, the scent of rosin brought me immediately back to the last time I'd played in this room, the last Saturday before I'd left. At the time, I remembered, I hadn't wanted the lesson to end. All of a sudden, I couldn't wait for them to begin.

I lifted my cello out of the velvet-lined case, checked that the strings were intact and the bridge was in the right position – it wasn't unusual for instruments to get knocked around in transit, as much as every musician tried not to let it happen – and peered through the f-holes to make sure the sound post was in its proper place as well. Satisfied that there had been no obvious damage, I went to the closet where Data kept the music stands, set up the room as if it were already Saturday.

I spent the first hour just doing warm-up exercises. Scales, arpeggios, simple songs. I was glad he wasn't there to see that I had to stop and trim my fingernails back to playing length, though I knew he would not have mocked me, just given me the reproachful look that meant he knew I hadn't practiced enough to be worth his time.

Well, I was probably harder on myself then he was likely to be.

When I was bored with warm-ups, I went looking through the pouch of data-solids that were still stowed in my case, casting one after the other aside until I'd found what I was looking for: sheet music for a sort of musical triptych that Hugo Rodriguez had composed as a duet for violin and cello. I made a point of copying the score and sending both the entire work and just the violin part to Data, as well as uploading the latter to his music stand.

Two hours later, after a break to use the bathroom and feed Spot, I was still immersed in the highly technical pieces that blended contemporary and classical styles and rhythms, so much so, in fact, that I barely noticed that Data had come into the room, picked up his violin, and started to play along with me until we finished the last movement.

"An intriguing piece," he observed. "It is not one I am familiar with."

"Hello to you, too," I teased. "You wouldn't have heard of this piece. It's one of Hugo's. He gave copies to the people who attended his master class. I sent you the full score – there's an optional classical guitar part."

"We would need to find another violinist, if you wish to add the guitar part."

"Or another cellist," I said. "Hugo had us all playing each other's instruments all summer. I mean, it's not liked I'd never played a violin before – but, he had us switching parts all the time. It was fun. Challenging, but fun."

"Do you wish to switch instruments now?" he asked.

"Do you mind if we don't? I really hadn't planned to rope you into a rehearsal, I just wanted…no, _needed_…to play."

"But you set up both music stands," he pointed out.

"I _hoped_ you'd come home in time to join me," I confessed, grinning. "It seemed appropriate. I mean, it's my last night usurping your bed, and all. I figured something special was in order, and since the joys of chocolate cheesecake are lost on you…" I trailed off, reacting to his widened eyes and suddenly stiffer posture. "Did I overstep? I really didn't mean to."

"You did not," he said, but his tone was an odd one, even for him. "It would seem I have become…accustomed to your presence here."

Somehow, I managed neither to blush nor to make a snarky comment. "Yeah," I said, feeling my throat get suddenly rough. "I know I balked at being here in the beginning, but…I meant what I said this morning. It's been okay. More than okay, really. It was…easier than I thought it would be." I let that thought hang there for a moment, then forced a lighter tone. "So, should we run through this piece one more time, or are you taking me to dinner?"

"You wish to dine elsewhere?"

I laughed, "I was kidding, mostly. I mean…I feel like my being here has forced you not to spend time with your friends, and as much as I admire your mad replicator skills, I could use a change of scene, but…it's also been nice getting to have quiet meals with you and then help broaden your exposure to pop culture by way of the ship's video library. Going back to seeing you only in class and on Saturdays is going to be a little bit weird."

"Commander Riker's poker game is typically on Sunday nights," Data said.

"Good for Commander Riker?" I replied, puzzled.

"You have not kept me from any social activities, as the last scheduled event was last Sunday's poker game, which was cancelled because we were still investigating the bombings at Starbase Twelve."

"Oh."

"Would you like to have dinner in Ten-Forward, Zoe?"

"With you?" I asked.

"Unless there is someone with whom you would prefer to –"

"No."

"No, you do not wish to go?" He seemed honestly confused.

"No, there isn't someone else who I'd prefer to go with. Not tonight, anyway." I glanced down at the jeans I was wearing. "I should probably change, though. I'm covered in rosin and cat hair."

"I will pack your cello for you while you do so," he said.

I set my cello down on its side and left the room, returning a few minutes later still wearing the same v-neck shirt I'd had on all day, but having paired it with a casual skirt that had surfaced in my suitcase, and the sandals I'd worn to the conference on Sunday morning. I returned to the main room where he was waiting, and I froze.

"We can't do this," I said.

"Zoe?"

"We can't go to dinner in Ten-Forward. Not…not just us. Lunch, sure. But not dinner. Not after…people will think we're on a date."

"Are we not?"

"You _know _we're not."

"We have shared meals in Ten-Forward more than once."

"Yeah, with other people. The only time it's ever been just _us_ is in my quarters, or here."

"I am confused. You are more concerned with what people will think of us sharing a meal in a public space than what may be construed by sharing a meal at home?"

"No one _knows_ if I'm eating at your table when I'm here," I pointed out. "And you heard what Geordi said this morning. He's your best friend, and he thought we were…that our relationship was…"

"Inappropriate."

"Yeah," I said, collapsing onto the couch. "Counselor Troi says I worry too much about it, but…" I took a breath. "I spent a good chunk of my childhood with my father, going on tour with him. He stopped taking me when school became something that mattered, but it wasn't _just_ because I needed to be in one place for school. Part of the reason I got dumped with Gran is because I got old enough to figure out that he was sleeping with my tutors or my aux pairs. The last one…the last one was in his bed _hours_ before Mom got home on leave. My father wrote the book on inappropriate, and do you know what my response was? I went to a bonfire on the beach and got wasted."

"I did not know." He joined me on the couch, but his posture remained rigid.

"There was no reason you should've."

"You seem to have a pleasant relationship with your father, now."

"Appearances can be deceiving," I said. "And I'm pretty good at blocking out the things I don't want to deal with, and making jokes about the rest."

"The human capacity for emotional self-defense is most intriguing," Data said. "I often marvel at the resilience you display."

"Yeah, we're talented that way."

"No, Zoe, I mean you, specifically."

"Me?" I shook my head. "I'm really pretty ordinary, Data. Most of the time I'm completely confused, trying desperately to keep up, and hoping nobody notices how unprepared I really am."

"Would it surprise you to know that your description applies to myself as well?"

I refrained from pointing out that he was anything but ordinary. "You? You can't be serious. No, wait, don't say it."

He didn't remind me that he was always serious. Instead he said, "You are aware that I have no emotions, that I never quite 'fit in.' It is only since being posted to the _Enterprise_ that I have even managed to form friendships."

Somehow, hearing that in his matter-of-fact inflection made it more poignant. "I…didn't know," I said, echoing his earlier statement in meaning, if not in exact phrasing.

"There is no reason that you should have," he stated.

"Is there a point buried under there somewhere?" I asked. "Because I'm starving, and wherever we – or I – eat tonight, I'd really like it to be soon."

"That is evident from your mood," he said. "You once told me that if we were friends, there had to be trust, did you not?"

"Yes," I said.

"Then, will you trust me when I tell you that there is nothing inappropriate about two friends having dinner in Ten-Forward?"

"But…"

"Must I remind you again that androids do not lie?" he added, staring pointedly at me.

"Okay, fine," I said. "You win."

"Thank you, Zoe." He stood and moved toward the door, and I followed. "On the way, you may explain to me why you chose to install a new tongue stud."

I laughed, and looped my arm through his. "Actually, there are three reasons. One is that I decided it was kind of cool. Edgy, even. The other is that it's a tangible reminder not to be quite so reckless."

"That is only two reasons," he pointed out as we entered the turbolift.

"Well, the third reason is kind of immature."

"Oh?"

"It will _really_ annoy my mother."

He may not have had actual emotions. He certainly couldn't laugh. But the look on his face? Priceless.

**(=A=)**

Ten-Forward was pleasantly busy when we arrived, with Commander Riker's jazz combo playing in one corner, and people dancing nearby. "Maybe we should rethink this," I suggested, but Data ignored me, guiding me to a table far enough away from the music so that we could actually have a conversation.

Guinan appeared almost as soon as we were seated, and smiled knowingly at me. "I knew you weren't going to keep the original piercing," she said.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I thought you meant I wasn't going to keep a piercing at all."

"I know," she said. She took our order – one serving of an eggplant and water chestnut casserole I really loved, and an extra empty plate – and disappeared again, but not without adding the instruction, "Data, after you eat, make sure you dance with Zoe. She needs a little fun."

"I really don't need to dance," I protested after she left.

"I do not mind," he responded.

"Not minding isn't the same as wanting to," I pointed out. "And anyway, I don't even know _how_ to dance."

"There are several kinds of dance listed on your theatrical resume."

"Why, exactly, did I ever let you see that?"

He refrained from answering while the server was delivering our food, but as soon as the waiter had gone, he said, "You let me see it because I asked."

"And if I'd said no, you'd have asked Dr. Crusher for a copy."

"That is…quite probable," he agreed.

"Alright, look, I have experience with ballet, tap, jazz, and hip-hop. I took hula lessons for two weeks. I know how to ice skate, but when it comes to social dancing? I'm pretty much limited to the kind of rhythmic gyration popular at clubs…not…not ballroom, or anything similar. Well, except waltzing, but any idiot can do _that_."

"Then I will teach you," he said.

"There's no way I'm getting out of this, is there?"

"No."

"Someday, when you least expect it," I said in my best nonchalant tone, "I will exact a personal and very painful revenge. It will be a revenge so complete that it will serve as a catalyst to deep, unending fear."

"Threatening a line officer is not a wise course of action, Ms. Harris."

"Neither is torturing your friends, Commander Data."

He managed to get me onto the dance floor, led me through a few basic steps, and soon figured out I hadn't been exactly honest about not knowing that type of dancing. I'd danced at my father's wedding, after all, but I wasn't _good _at it by any means, and it's a fortunate thing android feet are immune to fumble-footed teenagers.

After a few songs, I needed a drink, and a break, and we returned to our table. "Okay," I admitted between sips of water. "I might have enjoyed that. But next time, I get to choose our activity."

"I will hold you to that," he agreed.

We left shortly afterward, and even though it wasn't even midnight, the emotional pre-dinner conversation combined with the dancing meant I was more than ready for sleep. I excused myself to go to bed the second we entered his quarters.

"You do not wish to have tea?" he asked, apparently puzzled. Well, it was our usual ritual.

"I do," I said, "but I wish to be functional at a reasonable hour _more_. Thank you for tonight."

"You are welcome, Zoe," he said. "Good night."

"Good night, Data." I let the door swish most of the way shut, leaving it open only a crack that time, zipped through my nighttime bathroom routine, and curled up in the bed.

An hour later, I sat straight up, not because I'd had a nightmare, but because I realized I'd inadvertently asked him out. He'd know it wasn't a date, wouldn't he? _Wouldn't he? _ I forced myself to lie down, and did some of T'vek's meditation techniques to help find that pleasantly muzzy, sleep zone again. _Of course he'd know. _

* * *

><p><strong>NOTES: <strong>Hugo Rodriguez is the fictional cellist of the equally fictional Tantalus Quartet, and was one of Zoe's instructors during her time at the Suzuki Institute (see _Hello from Earth…_). Hugo's "musical triptych" is actually a piece in three movements, "Three Semblances," by Gabriel Gutierrez Arellano. It's been recorded by Duo Parnas (two string-playing sisters) on their album NOW which celebrates contemporary (at the time of release) composers. A version that includes guitar has been added to the Crushing on Cello playlist (see my profile). Sorry for the long delay in this chapter – life's been…busy.


	8. Clarification

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

><p><strong>Clarification<strong>

**Stardate 44693.44**

**(Monday, 11 September 2367, 02:36 hours, ship's time)**

_"Someday, when you least expect it," I said in my best nonchalant tone, "I will exact a personal and very painful revenge. It will be a revenge so complete that it will serve as a catalyst to deep, unending fear." _

_"Threatening a line officer is not a wise course of action, Ms. Harris." _

_"Neither is torturing your friends, Commander Data." _

_"But it's so much fun," he replied, the faint smile on his face twisting into a leer. We were on the dance floor in Ten-Forward, and we were dancing but the people around us were distorted, and their mouths, I realized, weren't moving in conversation or laughter, but represented their screams. _

_"What did you say?" I asked looking into his eyes. His features, too, changed, but the changes were subtle: the set of his jaw was more belligerent. The warmth in his eyes had turned to cold. Pale, faint, light as from a dying moon, not the comforting glow of sunlight I was accustomed to. _

_"I said, 'but it is so much fun,'" he said. Except he hadn't. Except his tone was flatter, and the innocent note in his voice was fake. "And it __**is**__, my little pigeon. It's __**so**__ much fun to needle the people you love. To know exactly where to prick the skin, exactly how hard to press before you pull back and let them figure out why they're bleeding."_

_The spinning sensation grew faster, the screams merged with the music – weird calliope music – the faces twisted and morphed into the pictures I'd seen on the news nets…the pictures of explosive decompression victims. _

_His hand held my waist. His other hand skated up my body, grazing my breast, tangling in my hair. Our mouths met. I tasted acid. I tasted the faint sweetness that I now knew was Data's…flavor. I tasted acid again, and recoiled. No, give me back the sweetness, my mind pleaded. _

_"He finally tasted you, didn't he," that voice – Lore's voice – whispered in my ear. "No…no, you tasted him. Oh, pigeon, maybe you're not such a little girl after all."_

_We spun. And people screamed. And there were sirens. _

_Klaxons. _

_"Wake up, little pigeon. Ship's going down…" _

_"What?" _

_Klaxons. _

_Klaxons!_

_**Klaxons!**_

_I sat up in bed, screaming. Red warning lights bathed everything, flashing on and off. There was smoke that I tasted rather than smelled. _

"Zoe, sweetie, wake up. Kiddo, come on. You're dreaming, and you need to wake up." My mother's voice jarred me into wakefulness.

"Mom?" I asked, confused. "Were there alert sounds just now?"

"Not a one, hon," she said, smiling at her own rhyme. "You were having another nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Not really. It was more of the same. Data. Lore. People screaming as they fell victim to explosive decompression."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Tea usually helps. Mint or chamomile. A tiny bit of honey."

"Usually?"

I blushed faintly. "Data always made me tea when I had a bad dream," I explained. "Although once we got Lore's message stud out, I didn't have any more." I saw her expression change from concern to slight confusion and added quickly, "Nightmares, not tea. I had plenty more tea." I paused a moment to muse. "I don't know if he made it because he knows I like it, or if someone once told him that you should offer a hot beverage to someone in distress."

Chuckling, my mother suggested, "Perhaps it's a bit of both?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Alright then, I'll get you some tea, and if you decide you want to tell me about your dream, I'll listen."

"Thanks Mom."

She left my room, and I checked the time – just after two-thirty, and I had class in a few hours. Data's class, in fact. That wasn't going to be awkward at _all. _

When she returned, I was sitting up in bed. I took the mug from her, and wrapped my hands around it. "Sit with me a minute?" I invited, moving to make room.

"Sure, kiddo." She took up a perch on the edge of my bed. "What's up?"

"How come you weren't angry?"

"What do you mean?"

"You came home to find me basically living with my math tutor…the same man you _wouldn't_ let me go on an overnight shuttle trip with to see the Tantalus play last spring. So, why was that not okay, but me staying in his quarters didn't seem to faze you?" I peered closely at her, and asked, mostly joking, "Who are you, and what did you do with my mother?"

She laughed. "Oh, Zoe. I _was_ angry, at first, but then I realized that being with him really was the safest place for you. Also…while you were away all summer, I made more of an effort to get to know Data off-duty." She hesitated, before adding, "I was _angrier_ with him for not telling me Lore had been contacting you this summer, but when he explained his reasons for not telling me, I understood. I didn't quite agree, but I understood."

"I wanted to tell you," I said. "But he thought it would be better not to. He didn't want you to worry over something you couldn't fix."

"Yes, he explained that."

"I was afraid if you knew, you'd make me come back here."

"I might've," she admitted.

"So can I keep the tongue piercing?" I asked, abruptly changing the subject. "I mean, we got Lore's out, of course, but this one, the one Dr. Crusher put in for me…can I keep it?"

"I don't know, _can _you?" she asked pointedly.

Rolling my eyes, I restated my question, "_May_ I keep the tongue piercing?"

"For a while, I suppose," she agreed. "It might remind you to be less reckless in the future."

"That was part of why I did it."

"And it will really annoy your father," she added.

"MOM!" I laughed. "I'd hoped it would annoy you," I added, after a beat.

"Drink your tea, daughter-of-mine, and go back to sleep. You have school in the morning."

"Okay," I said.

"We can talk about your dream at breakfast, if you want."

"Okay," I said again.

"I love you, kiddo."

"Okay," I said a third time, then grinned. "I love you too, Mom."

She left, and I sunk back against the pillows slightly. I sipped some of the tea but it didn't taste as good as it did when I was sitting on Data's couch, so I put the mug aside and turned off the lights.

I didn't dream again that night.

**(=A=)**

I was not the most attentive student in class that morning. Data began by reminding us about some kind of advanced placement test that would be significant when we began looking at universities, and then he launched into options for the rest of the year, and the year following. I should have been watching him. I should have been having my padd record his lecture. I should have at least made an effort to listen.

Instead, I was thinking about how it had felt when we'd kissed, and how much I wanted a proper kiss, not some chaste meeting of mouths meant as a means to an end, and how I'd inadvertently asked him out.

His words kept running through my head. _"It is also possible that I was curious, as well." _What did that even mean? And when was I ever going to be able to find out? _"I performed a self-diagnostic as soon as you left. There were no errors or malfunctions."_

My head felt like it was swimming, and only after Dana, sitting next to me, elbowed me in the ribs, did I realize Data had moved on to the review portion of the class, and had asked me to solve a problem, which was displayed on all our padds.

"Sorry," I said. I did the math, and shared my answer.

"Correct," Data said. "Though your solution was not the most elegant. Can anyone improve on Zoe's methodology?"

Looking at the problem again, I saw what he meant, and blushed hotly, because if I hadn't been distracted, I'd have seen the better solution in the first place.

Rryl was the first of my classmates to raise his hand, offering the method I _should_ have used.

"Very good," Data told him. He assigned another problem and picked Josh to give the answer that time.

Noon finally arrived, by which time my focus had improved, though I was still hyper-aware of Data, of the way he moved, spoke…_Stop it, _I ordered myself. _You have to stop this. _

"Lunch in Ten-Forward?" Annette asked as we all moved toward the door.

"Definitely," Josh said. "I'm starving."

"You are _always _'starving,'" Rryl observed.

"He's only been here a few weeks and he already knows your reputation as a human trash-can, Josh," I teased. "Hold the 'lift for me? I need to ask Data a question."

"Don't take too long," Dana said, linking her arm through Josh's. "Or he might die of hunger."

We all laughed, and then my friends were gone and Data was looking at me expectantly. "You have a question, Zoe?" he asked. "If it is about the homework assignment –"

"It's not," I cut in, "but it is school-related. Ms. Phelps told me last week that I'm short a lab science, and suggested that a work-study arrangement might interest me more than joining one of the classes. I talked with Lt. Nguyen in the aquatics lab, and she said that she'd be willing to put me to work, but no matter what I do, it has to go through you."

"I was not aware you were interested in marine biology."

"You know I love the ocean. Is it so surprising I'd be interested in what lives in it?"

"It is not," he said, "that your interest is surprising. It is more that I had not realized how little we speak of things other than music."

"Well, music or Lore, these days. It's kind of funny…Geordi suggested months ago that I should talk to you about all the things I'm interested in, but I haven't because…well…for a lot of reasons, but my friends are waiting. Will you approve my work-study?"

"Ask Lt. Nguyen to send me an official request, and copy it to Ms. Phelps, and I will approve it," he said.

"Okay, I'll do that. Thanks, Data."

"One moment?" he requested.

I was getting antsy. "Um, okay?"

"You seemed uncomfortable in class today. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Show up to class with a bag over your head and wearing sackcloth," I snarked, and then immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry. I had another nightmare early this morning, and I'm unsettled and off-kilter, and…I can't even talk about it with my mother." He was about to say something else, and I put up my hand to stop him. "Don't tell me to talk to the counselor. I've already got a standing appointment with her for Thursday."

"I was going to suggest that you could talk to _me_," he said.

"I'll think about it. Meanwhile…I don't want to ask for special treatment, but being in class with you, after the last week, after…everything…is kind of weird, so please be patient if I'm 'uncomfortable?'"

"Of course, Zoe."

"Thanks," I said. "I have to go."

My friends were still holding the turbolift when I got there. "Everything okay?" Dana asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm short a lab science, and Ms. Phelps suggested a work-study thing is all."

"About time you started taking advantage of the opportunities available on this fine starship," Josh teased.

"What?"

"You're actually the only one of us who isn't doing some kind of work-study or independent study course for something," Annette explained.

"Oh." I felt silly. "Actually that's not true. I have Saturday morning music theory with Data."

"Does that mean you're unavailable from ten to noon every week?" Dana asked.

"Nope. Ten to one. We're adding an extra hour to work on technique. I have been released from lessons with Seth."

"Good," Annette said. "I never liked him."

"Yeah, me neither," Josh put in as the 'lift doors opened again on deck ten. "You know, Tev used to ask Wes and me to meet you after lessons when he couldn't. And after he left, Data mentioned it, too."

"I knew about Tev," I said, as we walked into the lounge. Guinan caught my eye and we shared a look. "I actually used to ask him to meet me and be very visible," I added.

"Who is Seth?" Rryl asked. "And Tev?"

"Oh, sorry," I said. "Seth is Lt. Starker. He used to be my cello teacher, here on the ship. And Tev is T'vek Mairaj."

"Zoe's boyfriend," Josh put in, in a teasing tone. "They were hot and heavy."

"_Ex_-boyfriend," I corrected. "His parents were transferred to the _Berlin_ last February. Oh! But I saw him over the summer. He had an architecture thing on Earth, and we managed to meet up for a weekend. Let's grab the table by the viewport."

As we walked through the room, we passed Jenna D'Sora, the security lieutenant whom Data had been dating when I'd first started theory lessons the year before, sitting with a group of her friends. We'd gotten off to a rocky start, but even though she was the adult, I'd been the one to apologize and start over. She and Data had ended their relationship soon after, for reasons I wasn't privy to, but she still played the clarinet, which meant that – as fellow musicians - from time to time our paths crossed.

I smiled at her as we walked by her table. She wasn't one of the officers any of us would have considered interrupting – not like Reg or Geordi – but she was usually okay, so when she returned my smile with a glare, I was really confused.

"Geez, Zoe, friend of yours?" Josh asked softly, having caught the woman's expression.

We settled into seats around the table, giving Rryl the new-guy privilege of the best seat, the one where you could see out, but also people-watch. "That officer did not appear to like you," the Akkallan boy observed.

"That was a stink-eye, if I've ever seen one," Annette confirmed.

"I honestly have no idea what that was about," I said. "I mean, I kind of know her, but as far as I know, I haven't done anything to piss _anyone_ off lately. I couldn't even get a rise out of my mother when she saw my piercing, the other day."

"Maybe she's jealous of your new jewelry," Dana teased.

"Yes," I said, playing along. "That must be it. Not everyone has the style and confidence to pull off a mouth full of metal."

We all laughed, and then one of the waiters came to take our orders, and we spent the rest of the meal getting to know Rryl, who, it turned out, had a father in the science division and a mother in operations, did love to surf, and would be in our Language and Literature class with Ed this term.

Not long before we were done, Annette excused herself to use the restroom. When she came back, her expression was troubled. "Zoe, I need to ask you something," she said, "could you step away for a moment?"

"Um, sure," I said. I had no idea what she needed to ask me that couldn't be said in front of the rest of our friends, but I got up and walked with her to an empty table a little bit away from ours. "What's up?"

"I'm not sure how to ask this," she said softly, "but Zoe…someone stopped me in the corridor and asked if I was friends with 'the girl who's dating Commander Data.' Is there…is there something going on?"

"What? Annette, no, of course there isn't."

"Well, I didn't think so, but they said you two were in here last week, and that you were dancing with him."

I blushed. "That part's technically true," I said. "I mean, yes, we came here for dinner last Thursday, and Commander Riker's jazz combo was playing and we danced – well, he danced, I mostly stepped on his feet – but it wasn't anything like…It was definitely _not_ a date."

"If you were dancing with him, how was it not a date?" she asked, and I could tell she was sincere about the question.

"Because it wasn't," I said. "Because…" I sighed. "I can't tell you. We were working on a project and I was a little stir crazy. Data and I are _friends_. I mean, really, he's an officer, and I'm a student and underage. People can think what they like about me, but him? They should know better."

"You're right," she said, "They should. Well, whatever is going on with you, I hope you'll tell us soon, Zoe. We're your friends and we love you, but it feels like you're shutting us out of something...something really big."

"I know," I said. "I kind of am, but I swear it's not by choice. I hate secrets. They fester into really horrible situations, and kill friendships."

She slung her arm around me in a quick, friendly hug, then let go. "Okay," she said. "Let's go have dessert. I _need_ some chocolate today."

"Oh, sister," I said, "who doesn't?"

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44703.13**

**(14 September 2367, 15:30 hours, ship's time)**

By Thursday afternoon, I wasn't sure if there were more people asking me about Data, or if I'd just become more aware of it, but I'd nearly blown off Wednesday's math class because of it, opting at the last minute to show up, do exactly what was required of me (no more, no less), and then beat a hasty retreat.

I managed not to drift off into daydreams, at least.

Quartet rehearsals were on hold for another week, as Dr. Crusher had invited anyone interested to come watch scenes from the people who'd been participating in her latest acting workshop. Lt. Barclay, I knew, had been part of it, because I'd run into him on the way to the aquatics lab the day before, and he'd mentioned hearing that I'd been in acting class all summer.

"Yes," I'd told him. "Well, half the summer. The other half was all music, all the time. I'm a veritable font of artsy-fartsyness now."

He'd grinned his goofy grin at me and stammered through an admission that he, too, had been taking lessons. "From Dr. Crusher," he'd explained. "Bev-Beverly is a good teacher. Very patient. Very kind."

"She can be," I said. "My teachers weren't quite so nice. I called Dat – home. I called _home_ in tears more than once. But they say pain is character building, so…there's that. Lt. Nguyen is waiting for me."

"You're doing an internship in aquatics?" he asked, and the switch to science seemed to relax him a little. "That seems like something you'd enjoy."

"Well, I didn't get to see sharks in San Francisco Bay, so I had to do something to be allowed to play with the pair we have on board."

"Not seeing sharks when you're surfing is a good thing, Zoe," he'd said.

"So people keep telling me," I teased. "Gotta go." And I'd dashed off down the corridor.

But that was Wednesday, and on Thursday I was sitting in Counselor Troi's office fiddling with an iced raspberry mocha, and trying to be as open and honest as possible when what I really wanted to do was throw ceramic objects at walls.

"I feel like everyone's looking at me differently," I said. "Like they all wonder if Data and I are sleeping together, and that's ridiculous, because of so many reasons."

"Yes," she said, "it is. But it's also normal for people to speculate. Your father is a celebrity, Zoe. Haven't you had experiences with people talking about his love-life?"

"Well, yeah, all the time, but in his case half of it was true, and the other half was about people I didn't know. It's very different when you see the object of speculation across the table from you in math class three times a week, or when you're supposed to be working on music theory together."

"I'm sure it is."

"Does it bother Data? All the whispering?"

"Data would say that it 'cannot bother him,'" she said, trying to imitate his tone. (Personally, I thought my impression was much better.)

"We both know that's not true, and yes, I know, this is supposed to be about me, not him, but…I don't know…I was hoping that at least I wouldn't be in it alone."

"You're not," she said. "He doesn't hear as much because he _is_ a line officer, but he's heard enough."

"Enough to understand why after a week basically living with him, I'm suddenly playing avoidance games?"

"You're avoiding him?"

"As much as I can without blowin – skipping class."

"Is it helping?"

"Not really," I set the glass down on the side table. "Usually, he'd be the person I'd want to talk to about it, but I feel like…the more time I spend with him the harder it is not to want more…Class on Monday was excruciating, by the way, and _not_ because people were talking."

"Oh, why?"

"Because…because…did he tell you how we got Lore's stud out of my mouth?"

"You know I can't reveal –"

I rolled my eyes, "_I_ have to know how much _you_ know, so I know what I have to tell and what I don't. And, yes, I _know_, Ed would kill me for constructing a sentence like that."

She chuckled softly, but sobered almost immediately. "Data explained that you shared a kiss which released the stud."

"Did he tell you I initiated it, after he essentially told me we weren't going to try it?"

"He did."

"Did he also tell you he didn't stop me?"

"Zoe…"

"Counselor – Deanna – he didn't stop me. He kissed me back. And, okay, as kisses go it was relatively chaste, but I can't help it. I keep thinking about what it would feel like to kiss him properly and sitting in class my thoughts got all spirally…"

"And you were uncomfortable."

"So, he mentioned that."

"Only out of concern for you."

"My behavior must confuse him more than his confuses me."

"What do you mean?"

"Before _that_ kiss, we'd – I'd – we've always been physically affectionate. Not inappropriately. The occasional hug. And, you know, he was holding my hand a lot during that meeting the other week. But it was mostly me, treating him the same way I treat the guys in Dad's orchestra who are also family friends. Casual hugs. Kisses on the cheek. People in the arts tend to be more demonstrative than Starfleet types…it's our culture…"

She smiled. "That's true, and that you include Data in it isn't unnoticed by him."

"I've noticed I'm one of the only people who touches him. You know, casual touches in social situations."

"That's very perceptive."

"You spend six weeks with Lachlan Meade cursing at you in a Scottish brogue, you'd become pretty perceptive, too."

She laughed again, but all she said was, "Go on…"

"He touched my hair, in the hotel room. After he broke open the door. And when I was in his quarters, before I went to bed one night, he did it again, and kissed my forehead." I hesitated. "I don't know if it means anything, or if he's just repeating actions he thinks are appropriate."

"Did you ask him?"

"How, exactly, would I do that?"

"By doing it, but it may be premature."

"So what do I do? How do I deal? Do we move my lessons to one of the practice rooms on the rec deck? Do I make a point of not being anywhere near him outside of class?" And then I remembered, "Oh, god, I accidentally asked him out."

"What do you mean?"

"After our thing-that-was-absolutely-not-a-date last week, I told him that even though I hadn't wanted to dance, I'd had fun, but that I got to choose our next activity."

"And Data said…?"

"He agreed to my terms."

"So, what is your next activity?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told him. You both know the truth of your friendship. If it's meant to be something more, it will happen. If it's not, you still both have a very special friendship. Broadening your knowledge of each other's interests, spending time doing things that aren't strictly related to music, these will only help both of your explorations of what you are to each other."

She hesitated for a beat, then continued, "Zoe, I feel I should remind you: the fact that Data _is_ an android means that he both cannot and will not allow things to progress further than they should, but it also means he may not realize it if your feelings are hurt. Even as 'just' friends, you're going to have to be open with him in ways you wouldn't have to be at a similar stage in any other relationship."

"Yeah, I've learned that already. But about the rest…do you mean…it's okay…to…not-date him? I shouldn't feel like it's wrong or inappropriate if we spend time together?"

"If you're both enjoying the experience, I don't see why not. As well, the more people see you and Data together, no matter what direction your relationship takes, the less they'll talk."

"Oh, I get it," I said. "Don't give the story anywhere to go."

"Exactly," she said. "If they ask if you were the young woman dancing with him…"

"I say, 'yes, and I'm so sorry I wasn't a better partner for him.'"

She laughed, "Exactly."

"Okay," I said. "I can do that."

"Good," she said. "Now, let's talk about your nightmares."

"Can we table that? I think…I think maybe the most recent ones were because of the way my friendship with Data seems to be shifting…not a lot…but…"

"But it is changing, which it should, as you're growing older."

"Guinan said something like that, too. She also said…she said the best people never stop being students, and that in his own way, Data was a student, too."

"That's an excellent way to look at things, but don't tell Guinan I said that. She might be after my job."

I laughed with her that time. "Thanks, Counselor – Deanna. Talking to you is always helpful."

"I'm glad," she said. "Now drink that before I have to, and I shouldn't because I already had one." I followed her gaze to my glass, picked it up again, and drank the sweet, chocolaty beverage while we chatted in a less clinical tone about my school schedule and my internship/work-study/whatever thing in the aquatics lab.

**(=A=)**

I didn't go to the ship's auditorium with Data, even though I thought about asking him if he wanted company. Instead, I went with Josh and Dana, and Rryl, whose father was known for his storytelling skills and had joined the workshop as soon as they'd come aboard.

We ended up sitting in the same row as Data, with an empty seat between us and the senior officers. I couldn't help but smirk at Data's reaction – Lt. Barclay was supremely awful – but getting up on stage the first few times can be difficult, and even more so when the audience was comprised of people you work and live with every day. I knew that from my own experience.

When the performances were finally over, the doctor announced that auditions for the next production – _Romeo and Juliet_ - would begin the next evening, and she encouraged everyone in the audience to consider a role. If I felt like she'd pinned me and Josh with her gaze when she said it, I was pretty sure I was just imagining it.

As we left the room, Rryl caught up with his father, and Josh and Dana went off to have some time together before her curfew. I was surprised to find Data waiting for me in the corridor.

"Your friends seem to have abandoned you," he observed, in the tone that was as close to teasing as he ever got.

"So they have," I said. "I plan to make them feel very guilty about it tomorrow. Were you waiting for Lt. Barclay? I think Counselor Troi is still with him."

"I was waiting for you."

"If this is about me still being unsettled in class…" I began, but he cut me off.

"It is not. I had thought to invite you to accompany me here tonight, but you have been…"

"Avoiding you?"

"Apparently."

"Yeah, I kind of was. _Am_. And the hallway really isn't the place to explain why."

"No, it is not," he agreed. Then, seemingly randomly, he added, "Spot misses you."

I raised my eyebrows in amused disbelief. "_Spot_ does?"

"Yes, I believe so. She becomes agitated at your typical bedtime, and stares fixedly at your place on the couch."

"I…see?"

"Perhaps you could accompany me to my quarters for a cup of tea, and to assure her that you have not left the ship?"

I'd never seen him this awkward before. Not with me, anyway. "I need to clear it with my mother. But if she doesn't object, and you have time before your shift, maybe I could hang out with you and Spot long enough to watch a vid?"

"I believe we would both find that acceptable. However, I reserve the right to veto your selection."

"Just because I wanted to watch _Hellraiser_…" I grinned. We started walking toward the turbolift, and I asked, "So, do you think Lt. Barclay would improve any with _twelve_ weeks of lessons?"

"I would not 'get my hopes up.'"

We ended up watching a twentieth century classic: _Dead Poet's Society_, which left me with the distinct impression that Data would be addressing Picard as, 'O Captain, my captain,' at his earliest opportunity, but between cuddling Spot and watching the video, I never did get around to explaining why I'd been avoidy-girl all week. Somehow, sitting on his couch with the cat and a bowl of popcorn, it didn't seem to matter.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes: <strong>So much for my plan of a chapter every four-five days! This one got away from me, but since the last chapter, I've acquired a new computer and gone on a home improvement shopping spree. Astute readers will notice that we've exited the space between episodes. The end of this chapter coincides with the teaser from "The Nth Degree." Oh, and Red? Your request has been noted and logged. P.S. Some of you may remember that I adopted a puppy last June, because three dogs of my own just wasn't enough. Piper wasn't thriving at first, but now, at almost a year old, she's a hale and hearty 35-pound border collie mix, who loves to scrap with her adopted brothers, and gives the best puppy kisses ever.


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